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Pause | Nov 14 2002

The love interest in my dream last night was named Michael Barrish. I don’t know what she looked like because I only spoke with her on the phone. I liked her voice and felt an instant sense of recognition and attraction. Some people only have to say ten words and an entire landscape of possibilities appears. The words themselves hardly matter; it’s all in the phrasing, the pauses.

When she told me her name, I got confused. “No, that’s my name,” I said, “I was asking about yours.” She thought I was fucking with her and began to get angry. Even after we sorted this out, it remained upsetting to both of us. She said, “What if we get married? How are we going to tell who the mail is for?”

I said I didn’t know, and a long pause followed.