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I had a dream last night, my psychiatrist would have a field day with. I dreamt there was a beautiful park in the middle of a city. You had to pay a quarter to get in. In the middle of the park were these brick toilets and again you had to pay a quarter to get in.

I thought, Wow those must be really nice toilets. I don’t really need to go, but I’ll pay a quarter to get in and a quarter to use the really nice toilets.

So I sitting there, looking out a half window at the park, and by the way they were really nice toilets, and a woman kept going back and forth. I thought to myself this might be the kind of place someone would vandalize.

So I was sitting there and the entire wall of the toilet was ripped off and  I was exposed to the city.

Yeah, thanks vandals.

Remember, this is a dream. Even my dreams have a freaky sense of humor.

My psychiatrist would want to look for deeper meaning, like my Mom’s toilet training techniques. But, me I’m not that brilliant and well-educated and I think my Mom did a fine job.

I think it’s because I’m facing my fear of short stories publicly. Oh by the way the last short story really sucked, so can my freakish dream count instead?

wooded subway stop

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