00:28 AM
"I had a dream about you just now."
"Ooo - kinky?"
"What? Ew, no."
"What do you mean, ew no?"
"Exactly that - ew no."
"I'm a fucking catch."
"I would never throw you, let alone catch you."
"You're telling me you've never thought of me? Thought of us?"
"Personal space. Now."
"Why? Is your heart beating like crazy? Are you finally realising your latent homoromantic feelings for me?"
"Your cologne is overpowering, I'm choking on it, can you back away?"
"Whatever, I'm a fucking catch, Sol. You know it, I know it."
"Is this what you're doing now? Hitting on your best mate because you've banged every lad in Dublin in a bid to forget about Brookes?"
"Again with Brookes, why are you so - hold on, best mate? I'm your best mate?"
"Bloody hell, don't get excited."
"Of course I'm fucking excited! Daniel Solomon, the president of the anti-social club has just named me, Micah Saro-Wiwa -"
"Full names? Really-"
"The most eligible bachelor in Ireland-"
"Also the most disputable title in Ireland-"
"-his best mate!"
"What are you doing? Why are you looking out the window? Close the curtains! That weird middle-aged man in the opposite building keeps watching us through his binoculars. Do you want your picture to end up on a porn site?"
"I just saw a flying pig! Miracles do happen!"
"Oh wow. Micah, it was a slip of the tongue, please calm down."
"You don't do slips of the tongue, Sol. You say what you mean and you mean what you say. At least with me you do."
"Bloody hell."
"It's okay, Sol, you're my best mate too."
"Do you want to hear about my dream or not?"
"Oh, oh, yeah your sex dream! Shoot!"
"Not a sex dream."
"Sure."
"Don't wink."
"Tell me about your sex dream...bestie."
"Not a bloody sex dream."
"Brilliant...didn't deny the bestie thing. It's official!"
"Back to the dream. We were living in our first year flat, but it was in ruins. Decay and mold, it was a palace of infestation. The world was empty and we had run out of food. I asked, what are we going to eat and you pointed to my chest and said, your heart. You have two, you said, you'll survive if we eat one. I don't know why I said yes but I did and you tore into my chest with your bare hands and ripped out my beating heart. I'd never seen blood so red in the bright morning light. You cooked my heart in a pan and we ate it with potatoes and green beans. I don't remember what it tasted like but when I looked over at you, you grinned at me with a bloodstained mouth. You opened that mouth to say something and I knew whatever you'd say would mean another part of me would be on the dinner plate and -"
"....and?"
"And that's when you barged into my room like five minutes ago and woke me up."
"Fucking hell."
"I know. What do you think it means?"
"Since when do you care about meaning, Sol? Existence is meaningless yada yada..."
"Fuck sake, I blame you and your life is full of wonder and love bullshit."
"I don't see how searching for meaning is bullshit."
"My care for it rises and falls. Tonight it's at twenty-three percent."
"I...I don't know."
"Don't you do psychology?"
"No? I do Genetics. I mean, I did one module in psychology last year but that doesn't mean I'm B.F Skinner."
"Wow."
"What?"
"Just surprised you know who B.F Skinner is."
"Well, arsehole, why don't you put your little humanities degree-"
"Little humanities degree? Language and Linguistics is not little. I'd like to see you sit through a three-hour exam on twelfth-century ecolinguistics."
"I wouldn't make it to that exam mate. Sounds fucking boring."
"Exactly. Well, not exactly because it's not boring. It's actually really fascinating when you consider the evolution of phonetics in the Carolingian Emp-"
"Yeah, Carol Linguini she's great - so, what do you think the dream meant?"
"If you get hungry enough they say you start eating your own heart."
"What?"
"It's from the Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood."
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