A friend was staying at my house (my mom's house). He had gotten there a day before I did. He was a youngish or middle-aged guy who was into poetry. Nobody seemed to question his presence there: he was my friend. He had some books with him; one a translation of Robert Desnos. He read me some poems from this book and they weren't bad, though they didn't resemble actual Desnos poems at all. (Not that I know his poems well!).
It occured to me at some point that we hadn't really hung out very much in the past, in real life, and thus our friendship was really starting then. I was on the verge once of asking him how we had met. We were going to go some event in a Barnes & Nobles later in the evening...
When I woke up from this dream, I had no idea who this person was. The dream was very vivid and full of real-feeling details, but this person does not exist in real life. I understood this immediately upon waking up, with some wistfulness.
When not hanging out with my imaginary friend, I was with relatives. We were talking and I realized they didn't know that Mona Jo had died (my aunt). These relatives, though, were also composite or imaginary figures, not my actual relatives.
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