they amputated my dreams

I'm in a pub on Friday night and I start talking to my urbane, intelligent, charming drinking companion about Annette's commission and disappointment in general. And I ask him what he could do if he could do anything. And he finds it really difficult to answer. And this would be OK if he was totally satisfied with his current life but I don't think he is. He finds it hard because he has lost the capacity to dream. Thinking about what else might be is too painful. Too much time owed to a career and money owed as a mortgage. There is no other reality than the one that is present and correct.

Don't make me cut off my own fantasies so I lie at wake at night with only the agony of phantom ambitions for company.