So far, I’ve had this dream four times in the last two months: I’m in Italy, with James Franco, and we are swimming, tanning, smoking a lot of weed and fucking. The problem is I’ve never been attracted to James Franco. I find him kind of annoying–his whole “thing” is just not my taste. But now I can’t stop thinking about him! Is there something wrong with me? Am I having some sort of premonition? How do I perform an exorcism for my subconscious?
Dear Thieving Lunatic,
I think you’re a sleepwalker, and here’s why: for the past two months, my Shaman, Steve, and I have been trying to figure out why the fuck I stopped having that dream. I’ve tried everything to get it back–drinking goat blood (which is actually a great appetite suppressant), sweat lodging, chanting, ritual sacrifices–nothing has worked. And now it’s clear to me that you must have snuck into my house one night, shook your serpent rattle over my sleeping body, and dream-cleansed me without my consent. First, please slap yourself, because NO ONE steals my dreams. Now, forgive yourself. It’s not your fault you’re a sleepwalking klepto. I’ve notified Steve, and here’s what I need you to do tonight:
1. Email me your gate code.
2. Make a copy of your keys, and leave them under the doormat.
2. Take an Ambien.
2. Go to sleep.
3. Wake up.
I promise you will never have this dream again.