alameddine

I wake up in my own room. I try to get up. I am unable to. I can't move. There is nothing constraining me. I should be able to get up. I am unable to. I am terrified. I realize I am still sleeping. I am dreaming. I wake up. I try to get up. I am unable to. I can't move. There is nothing constraining me. I should be able to get up. I am unable to. I am terrified. I realize I am still sleeping. I am dreaming. I wake up. I try to get up. I am unable to. I can't move. There is nothing constraining me. I should be able to get up. I am unable to. I am terrified. I realize I am still sleeping. I am dreaming. I wake up. I try to get up. I am unable to. I can't move. there is nothing constraining me. I should be able to get up. I an unable to. I am terrified. I realize I am still sleeping. I am dreaming. Life is a repeating pattern. (95)

I wanted to write an endless book of time. It would have no beginning and no end. It would not flow in order. The tenses would make no sense. A book whose first page is almost identical to the last, and all the pages in between are jumbled with an interminable story. A book which would make both Kant and Jung proud. (118)

Alameddine, Rabih. Koolaids: The Art of War. New York: Picador, 1998.