Dream Exchanger

I put a block on my dreams. I have an app for that. I was having nightmares about being married with six kids and a mortgage. I repaired revolving doors.
One of my friends gave me an address for a Dream Ex changer. I knocked three times and whistled. A tiny old woman opened the door. Please, I begged, I need help. She let me in and for a moderate fee she gave me an old tape recorder. I was to play it at night and it would gently put me to sleep and instill new dreams from someone else.
All I can say is buyer beware. It turns out she sold me Tim Burton's discarded dreams.
Needless to say, I woke up screaming.

Dream New Dreams

I need new dreams. The dream of rolling down a hill naked into a vat of chili has served its purpose. Being scratched by the Olsen twins in intimate places is almost inappropriate. Living alone in a cave impractical, even for a dream.
I thought about paying others for their dreams, but that is unethical and cowardly. I do believe at least one dream should involve wearing Lycra.
The worst is having snatches of a dream that never seem complete, sort of like the Carter Administration. I wonder what professional pole dancers dream. Regardless, I must set aside time to formulate a new set of them. There is just too much time to think during the day, especially with an election coming up. A sense of staleness has been setting in as I daydream. For a long time I wanted to experience astronaut dreams, but the space program seems to have run out of money.
As a last resort I'll force myself to head to the Amalgamated Dream Distributors local office. That's where one can pick up some pawned dreams, brought in by desperate folks in exchange for a bag of fruit.