April 16, 2010

• Dave

  I love my roommate.

  On Tuesday night I got home at about 1am, and upon entering the front door into silence and darkness, I wondered if Dave, my roommate, was upstairs sleeping.  For some reason I decided to make myself believe he was upstairs sleeping, and left it at that.

  About an hour later Dave walks in the room after arriving at the house.  Okay, so not sleeping.  We talked for a few minutes before I explained,
  
  “Man, when I came home I thought ‘Is Dave upstairs? I’m not sure’ but then I just decided to believe, on no real evidence whatsoever, that you were sleeping.  So it kind of feels like I’m talking to a hallucination right now, and then later on I’ll tell you I had a conversation with a hallucination of you.  Though I’m not really sure why I’m telling you this since you are the hallucination . . .”
  
  “Oh yeah, I’m a hallucination.  In fact, as a hallucinaton I’m not even a ‘me’ to be telling you that I’m a hallucination.  It’s all your hallucination man.”
  
  “This is going to be so weird to tell you later.”
  
  “Yeah, I’ll have no idea what you’re talking about.  Even though I’m really the hallucination and not Dave, and am really you and not the hallucination.”
  
  “Woah, my mind is doing crazy things right now.”
  
  “Anyways,” Dave closed, “I’m gonna go get some sleep. I’ll catch you later.”
  
  “Alright, night dude.”

  With that, Dave headed up the stairs wearing his jeans and crazy flannel shirt (he’s a crazy dresser – a style unto himself).  About twenty seconds later he comes down wearing only his boxer briefs and a white t-shirt, and with squinty eyes and a weak voice asks from the stairs,

  “Dude, were you having a conversation with someone . . .?” 

  I love my roommate.

  • 4:19 am
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