Fiction Writers.. In Outer Space!I had a dream last night. And you were there, and you, and you and you.. All my friends from school were there at the rocket-launchy thing they set up next to the Sears Tower. Our ship would arrive in 45 minutes. We had one last chance to wander about the town and say our goodbyes before blast off. I got lost. Somewhere up north. Maybe I was trying to walk all the way back home. I climbed the stairs to an el platform, tried to figure out where the hell I was. Then I saw it in the distance, peeking between the skyscrapers. Like a thousand foot tall bullet, silver, shiny, leaned against the rocket-launchy thing. The ship I would ride to space. I caught the next train to the Loop. And got there just in time for boarding. My friends from school were giddy and terrified. Giggling through tears and squeezing each other's hands as we climbed the stairs to the space ship. A crowd waved and cheered below us. Such heroes we were, the first fiction writers in space. In the belly of the ship were a fuck load of research monkeys. Big, fuzzy apes, little spider monkeys. Deformed monkeys with 18 fingers. They howled and rattled the bars of their cages as we passed. Before we could proceed, a scientist had us autograph a monkey's stomach. I gently pushed aside it's fur to write my name. It didn't seem to mind. In another room were these donkeys with enormous mouths. "They're our newest creation. Donkeys with horse lips!" a scientist eagerly explained. Uhh.. okay.. We climbed more stairs to a locker room where we'd change into our space suits. I'd forgotten mine, but they had a spare that seemed like it would fit. Soon, we looked like 80's Ghostbuster marshmallow men, or children set to play in the snow. It was time to take our seats. The scientist opened the door to the passenger area.. and I woke up! Fuck! Couldn't get back to sleep because my stomach was squeezing with pain from the green pepper I accidentally ate last night (I'm deadly allergic. And couldn't tell it was a green pepper because it was covered in tempura batter). But I believe dreams are real. In some time, in some dimension, there are fiction writers in space. Oh yes..
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