I had sex with a famous poet last night and when I rolled over and found myself beside him I shuddered because I was married to someone else, because I wasn't supposed to have been drinking, because I was in fancy hotel room I didn't recognize. I would have told you right off this was a dream, but recently a friend told me, write about a dream, lose a reader and I didn't want to lose you right away. I wanted you to hear that I didn't even like the poet in the dream, that he has four kids, the youngest one my age, and I find him rather unattractive, that I only met him once, that is, in real life, and that was in a large group in which I barely spoke up. He disgusted me with his disparaging remarks about women.