Dreamt of sharing an apartment with two other students, Allen and Steve. Allen was a poet. Steve a singer. Steve was also a very dramatic man, and excused his drama — often edging into self-confirming melodrama — by saying, “It’s a singer thing. All real singers act like this.”
As the school year wore on, Steve’s increasingly dramatic behavior pushed him into full-out depression and he ended up sleeping on a reed raft in the pond in the backyard. The land behind our apartment building was home to a troop of monkeys and eventually even they got fed up with Steve’s behavior.
One day, when Steve was laying mostly in the water with his head on the muddy bank, one of the monkeys pushed Steve’s head underwater and held it there. The monkey was trying to drown him. Steve didn’t struggle. But he didn’t drown, either.