Why I SHOULD Believe In Psychoanalysis

Thanks to the poem I wrote last night, I had a wonderful warm bath of a dream which involved Isabelle Huppert (her body reminds me of someone I once knew). At a public function she broke away to indicate she was mine, which involved an enrapturing embrace. She had to return to rehearsals. While I was trying to figure out her computer, of an assignment she required of me, I felt horribly out of place. But think about that moment she'll return!

However, Coach Rex Ryan of the New York Jets entered the scene, asking me questions about the laptop. Such as, do you think you could send off a few words of encouragement to guys on the team on that thing? I told him it can wait.