I was in great distress. In an empty blue city covered in snow I wandered for several long minutes, searching for something unbeknownst to me. There were headlights here and there, but no cars belonging to them. The streetlights shined yellow, but a blue light was sewn across the streets and buildings.
At last I found a life - a small, dark-skinned girl playing in the street. I approached her with excitement, but she retreated from me in fear. I meant her no harm, for I was grateful to find life. I tried to show her that I was gentle and that I had good intentions, but she would have no part of me. Frustrated, grabbed some toys from around her and forced my hands in front of her as I showed her that I could also play. She finally smiled at me, but the smile was quickly transformed into a gasp as a nearby mansion lit up with both light and sound. The girl sniffed the air, then ran with great speed down the street into the darkness.
I looked upon the mansion with curiosity and with fear. The front door opened, calling me, so I entered.
Inside was a chaotic party. People were drinking heavily, carrying on, snorting lines of cocaine, swinging from chandeliers, throwing plates and silverware, and getting into fist fights. I saw many people I knew partaking in this anarchy, and I was disgusted at them, and they were disgusted at me. Bottles, food, and people were flying all about me as I made my way up the old wooden staircase to the third floor.
Once on top I walked over a couple making out in order to get to the center of the room. Then I saw, across the room, sitting in a velvet chair by the wall, Mark Oliver Everett (or E, from Eels). He was the only other person in the mansion who had not lost his mind. He was calmly smoking a cigar. After a few moments, he looked above the rims of his sunglasses and saw me. He waived for me to come over to him, and I obeyed.
He got up from his chair and put his hand on my shoulder and led me, without a word, over to another staircase. We ascended up out of the chaos and onto the irenic rooftop, which overlooked the city (even though were had only gone up a few stories). There E finally spoke to me.
He told me his life story (which I have read in his book "Things the Grandchildren Should Know"), which is laced with tragedy, depression, and suicide. He managed, after the hardest of lives, to come out of the darkness with a positive spirit and outlook on life. Instead of making me feel his pain, he bore my pain and turned it into comfort.
Then I awoke.
I wish I could express, in real life, my gratitude for the comfort E brought me on a night of such confusion and sorrow.
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