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Robert was tired of dreaming. I always come out looking dumb, he said to himself.
For example, he would dream of being swallowed by a big ugly fish, and even after it was over he could smell the fish's awful stench. Or he'd be sliding down an endless slide, faster and faster, and no matter how many times he cried out Stop! or Help! on he went until finally he woke up drenched in sweat.
His dreams also played tricks on him whenever le wanted something really bad. Once he had his heart set on a racing bike with twenty-eight gears, and he dreamed that the bike was waiting for him in the basement. It was an unbelievably detailed dream: the bike had a purple metallic finish and was parked next to the wine cabinet. He even knew the sequence of the combination lock: 12345. He couldn't forget that now, could he? Well, in the middle of the night, still woozy with sleep, he