Her lips tasted exactly like those purple Lifesavers candies.  Seriously.  I licked them again just to be sure.  She giggled.  “Snozzberries,” Gene Wilder said, moving to the white door with pictures of unlikely fruits plastered on the top half.   I held her body against mine with hands covered in furry gloves, and I rested my head on her hair, which was made of gold tinfoil.  The Beatles were singing “Penny Lane” in the background, and my watch was beeping out of synchronization.

This is the point where you know it’s all a dream, because I hate wearing gloves on the best of the days, but for some reason my subconscious wasn’t listening.

I let go of her, and her head fell off.  Mechanical cuckoos with a multitude of different-colored cartoon eyes came flying out of her neck, making noises akin to annoyed magpies until they roosted on the laser beams of a Seal of Solomon around my bed, at which point they began arguing about whether a love for the Clash classified someone as an old school punk, or if there had to be a continuing dress requirement.  I pulled off the gloves and threw them at the birds.  They took off, fluttering through the ceiling.

I looked for the girl’s head, afraid it rolled under my bed, and I didn’t want to look underneath because I wasn’t wearing socks, and you know the monster under the bed is impressed by socks and won’t bother you if you’re wearing even the slightest nylon hose.  Which was a bizarre thought for me, since I didn’t like nylons on my women, let alone the thought of them on my own feet.

The little Buddha on my nightstand offered to look for me, and hopped down in his jade green finest.  “No head,” he said, coming out bright red.  I used the glow to peek underneath, but then remembered that my bed rested on the floor.  I gave the Buddha a hand up and thanked him for the enlightenment.  He told me to kill him if I saw him on the road, but I said that was more Coyote’s joke than Wolf.

I followed the path of golden tinsel, thinking something about fairy gold as it turned into a path of oak leaves.  I was barefoot and the leaves crunched under my feet.  I identified them as oak in my dream, but I wouldn’t be sure what they were in waking.  The trees seemed concerned, and seven black birds (for a secret) followed me as I moved down the hill.

I heard the singing, playful splashes at the river. Three naiads dressed in lilypads blew kisses or raspberries at me.

“What do you believe in?” the first asked.

“The spirit of rock and roll,” I responded.  The first laughed and ducked under the water.

“What is your favourite colour?” the second asked.

“Blue,” I said, too quickly.  She kicked some water at me and then dissolved into a splash.

“Why do you look for the head of the Family?” the third asked.

“I am looking for the maiden princess before the Dragon devours her,” I said.

“Too late, little bird, too late.”  The third smiled, showing gruesome green teeth and then sank beneath the surface.

I ran down along the river.  Powered doughnuts like inner-tubes bobbed along it for an interval, as the river smelled more like coffee than loam.   An owl with a rosette pattern like a jaguar’s landed on a tree in front of me.

“What’s your suggestion?” I asked.  “If you ask me, `Who,’ I’m going to kick you in the beak.”

“Google it,” he said.  “Google-it, google-it,” and he flew back off.

I saw the Dragon’s cave in the distance, past the wooden boxes labelled, “Ceiling wax.”  There was a game of checkers being played at by a couple of cabbages on top of the crates, and all the remaining pieces were king’d.   I snuck around the boxes, looking into the darkness of the cave.  I felt very much like I imagined Nietzsche thought I would, as the darkness looked deep into me.

Do you love her? it asked.

“I love no one,” I said.  “I feel like I might have an infinite supply of love ready to be tapped into as soon as I find the one with the real key.  I have been tasted, but never more than sipped.  I am ready to be drunk.”

“Well, you are looking for some head,” the cabbage remarked, wryly.

Keep yours, the voice recommended.  Do not delve into the dark – it will devour you.

I woke up at that.  The room was still dark.  I looked at my watch, pressing the little function that made it light up.  I had been asleep for less than a couple hours.  Maybe it was the borscht.

Doloise was no where to be seen.  At the time, I figured I just didn’t see her, and I was still tired.  I went back to sleep.