The Dreamer Sleeps Without Dreaming, Part Two of Two [Audiobook] Podcast

Everything is more complicated than you think. You only see a tenth of what is true. There are a million little strings attached to every choice you make; you can destroy your life every time you choose. But maybe you won't know for thirty years. And you may never ever trace it to its source. And you only get one chance to play it out. Just try and figure out your own divorce. And they say there is no fate, but there is: it's what you create. And even though the world goes on for eons and eons, you are only here for a fraction of a fraction of a second. Most of your time is spent being dead or not yet born. But while alive, you wait in vain, wasting years, for a phone call or a letter or a look from someone or something to make it all right. And it never comes, or it seems to, but it doesn't really. And so you spend your time in vague regret or vaguer hope that something good will come along. Something to make you feel connected, something to make you feel whole, something to make you feel loved. And the truth is I feel so angry, and the truth is I feel so sad, and the truth is I've felt so hurt for so long and for just as long I've been pretending I'm OK, just to get along, just for, I don't know why, maybe because no one wants to hear about my misery, because they have their own. Noted severely self-loathing and seriously mentally ill author Jonathan Harnisch loses his mind once again through the written word offering his fifteenth literary disaster. The experience of reading this novel, The Dreamer Sleeps Without Dreaming, is similar in its nature to an eerie sensation of savoir-faire as one observes a dog having a bowel movement. For those who've adored Harnisch's epic novels, from Pastiche to his other fourteen literary works, this example of anti-art deserves nothing short of scathing criticism.