Last night I dreamed I died, and that my life had been rearranged into some kind of theme park.
And all my friends were walking up and down the boardwalk. And my dead Grandmother was selling cotton candy out of a little shack. And there was this big ferris wheel, about a half mile out in the ocean, half in and half out of the water. And all my old boyfriends were on it. With their new girlfriends. And the boys were waving and shouting, and the girls were saying “eeek.” Then they disappeared under the surface of the water, and when they came up again they were laughing and gasping for breath.
In this dream I’m on a tightrope, and I’m tipping back and forth trying to keep my balance. And below me are all my relatives, and if I fall I’ll crush them. This long thin line. This tightrope, made of sound.
— Laurie Anderson, Tightrope