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Hey, big spender,” I said. He looked appreciative but more amused than anything else. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a one dollar bill. “Hugh,” I said. “Don’t insult me.” With a sigh, he produced a five and tucked it underneath my bra strap. “Hey, Seth,” Cody suddenly said. I looked up and saw Seth standing in the doorway. A look of comic bemusement was on his face. “Hey,” he said, studying me. “So…you’re paying for dinner? ↗
Feminist,” he said, clearly amused. “Next you’ll be telling us you hate men.” She gave him a blank look. “I only hate stupid men who don’t actually understand what ‘feminist’ means.” He laughed. “You run into a lot of men like that?” “All the time.” “Really?” “Even as we speak, Nick.” “Oh no she didn’t,” said Peter. I groaned. ↗
The love in his eyes was so powerful, I needed to look away. Seth had an amazing grasp of the English language, but there were days when that skill was nothing compared to what he told me in his looks. ↗
John Cusack is standing over there.” I followed his incredulous gaze to where a man very like Mr. Cusack did indeed stand, smoking a cigarette as he leaned against a building. I sighed. “That’s not John Cusack. That’s Jerome.” “Seriously?” “Yup. I told you he looked like John Cusack.” “Keyword: looked. That guy doesn’t look like him. That guy is him. ↗
I disconnected as a sleepy Seth stepped out of the bedroom. “Who’s Dante? Was that a collect call to the Inferno?” “They won’t accept the charges,” I murmured. ↗
This is it?” I asked. “This is going to keep away an uber-powerful dream entity? It looks like a prop from The Blair Witch Project.” “It can’t force her away,” he said. “Nothing can. But it might make her think twice. It’s more of...a repellent.” “Like citronella?” He rolled his eyes. “Yes, like citronella. ↗
For in dreams we enter a world that is entirely our own. Let them swim in the deepest ocean or glide over the highest cloud. ↗
Religions are, by definition, metaphors, after all: God is a dream, a hope, a woman, an ironist, a father, a city, a house of many rooms, a watchmaker who left his prize chronometer in the desert, someone who loves you - even, perhaps, against all evidence, a celestial being whose only interest is to make sure your football team, army, business, or marriage thrives, prospers, and triumphs over all opposition. ↗
And you work for that demon, right? The one who looks like Matthew Broderick?” “John Cusack,” I corrected. “He looks like John Cusack.” “Whatever. ↗
