I dreamed and I was in a Netflix series, and was being tortured. I was strapped in a chair, blindfolded, my face swollen already from the beatings. I wasn’t being brave. Even in my dreams, I make the Cowardly Lion seem like John Wayne.
With a gun at my head, they told me it was my last chance to identify the Kardashians. Boom, I woke up dead.
In a second dream, I stepped out of character. They tried to force me to learn who each Kardashian was and who they date but, heroically, I died, refusing.
Hey, I know there’s nothing more boring than listening to another person’s dream. Jeez, I had a...