I often dream about the Dolphin Hotel.
In these dreams, I’m there, implicated in some kind of ongoing circumstance. All indications are that I belong to this dream continuity.
Dance Dance Dance by Haruki Murakami (1994)
“The Lady with the Little Dog” by Anton Chekhov
“Confessions of a Burglar” by Woody Allen, from Side Effects (1975)
A merry little surge of electricity piped by automatic alarm from the mood organ beside his bed awakened Rick Deckard.
Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? by Philip K. Dick (1968)
This is a tale of a meeting of two lonesome, skinny, fairly old white men on a planet which was dying fast.
Breakfast of Champions by Kurt Vonnegut (1973)
Journey to the End of Night by Louis-Ferdinand Céline (1934)
Waiting for Godot by Samuel Beckett (1953)
The sky had been covered with rain clouds since early morning; it was calm, not hot and oppressive as it is on grey overcast days when clouds have been hanging over the fields for a long time and you wait for rain but it does not come.
“Gooseberries” by Anton Chekhov (1898)
“The Ransom of Red Chief” by O. Henry (1910)