Last night I dreamt that my husband was seeing a young, beautiful black crack whore. We were having dinner in a restaurant and she approached our table and he looked caught and started to walk away. She gave me a stack of Hallmark cards he had written to her as proof of their affair. I gave her $50 for crack because I felt guilty that I was thinking how much this would help the new book I was planning to write – I could add a character of a crack whore and the Hallmark cards. I felt bad when I saw her notice I had a lot of hundred dollar bills in my purse.
This morning when I was getting dressed I found my Woody Allen socks and I flashed on the dream. I realized I’d had it because I was angry at my husband for taking the socks last week and wearing them – my favorite Woody Allen socks – that he had given me. The socks are black and the crack whore in my dream was black. And when you’re married, so little is just yours, and your husband wearing your favorite socks is as much a betrayal as any other.
So this is probably what my blog is going to be like…
