I invite friends over but it turns out they’re not friends at all but just blow up dolls from the office. I want to jump out the window and go looking for one, tilting my blind face this way and that. Of course I wonder if God has this problem. I think sensible paranoia is exhausting and doctors don’t understand it. If a thing comes true they say it’s a coincidence. I was terribly awake in the dream and I needed to find a job. Certainly I was more optimistic than I’d ever been before. I was tired though. “Please, whatever you do, be judicious,” said an inflatable pal who drifted a bit in the way of all balloon men.