"Last night (ya, around noon today, that is), I had a lovely dream about being with Depeche Mode. They had somehow at last hooked up with my family, and we were out by a lake, with boats. Anyway, I was lying in one in a reverie about my life, where I remembered all the time I’d wasted in thought and fantasy, and how people commented that it was a waste to spend that much time thinking about, ha-ha, God. I had on these kicking, but mismatched, black suede high heeled boots, one laced and one buttoned. They were different because I’d kept fitting and fitting until I found two that fit perfectly. Depeche Mode were out on the green sitting on a blanket together. The green was sopping wet, a meadow marsh that slowly sank into the lake. (The same as The Fairy Queen slept under, that’s the only other dream where I remember the ground like that.)
I knew that pretty soon I was gonna take the steerage and go talk to them. Dad was busy with the family loading a boat with tackle because he was taking them fishing on the lake. After they were gone, I left my reverie, swung myself over the boat side, and walked over to where the band was sitting. Because I’m gonna assume telling them how the shit went down, and I’m the only one who knows with respects to them, what they’re saying, Martin (more or less) asks, “So are you the leader here?” -to which I laugh and say, No. I decide to develop things slowly and ask if they want to go for a swim, because the heat of the day is coming on. Martin says no, at first, because it’s too hot, but he does it because I asked. He’s stripped already. So we all go diving in the lake."