My dreams? I just want to swim naked in a pool of whiskey, taking occasional breaks only to smoke my cigarettes. As the wisps of smoke lovingly leave my mouth, I want nothing but to be filled up with thoughts of regret, longing and nostalgia - meditations on what could have been but will never be.
And then I want to wash it all down with dirty martinis as I sit by a warm fireplace and read the Economist.
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