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I
took
a
vacation
.
I
fell
asleep
on
the
beach
,
and
when
I
woke
up
there
was
Tyler
Durden
,
naked
and
sweating
,
gritty
with
sand
,
his
hair
wet
and
stringy
,
hanging
in
his
face
.
Tyler
was
pulling
driftwood
logs
out
of
the
surf
and
dragging
them
up
the
beach
.
What
Tyler
had
created
was
the
shadow
of
a
giant
hand
,
and
Tyler
was
sitting
in
the
palm
of
a
perfection
he
'd
made
himself
.
And
a
moment
was
the
most
you
could
ever
expect
from
perfection
.
Maybe
I
never
really
woke
up
on
that
beach
.
Maybe
all
this
started
when
I
peed
on
the
Blarney
stone
.
When
I
fall
asleep
,
I
do
n't
really
sleep
.
At
other
tables
in
the
Planet
Denny
's
,
I
count
one
,
two
,
three
,
four
,
five
guys
with
black
cheekbones
or
folded-down
noses
smiling
at
me
.
"
No
,
"
Marla
says
,
"
you
do
n't
sleep
.
"
Tyler
Durden
is
a
separate
personality
I
've
created
,
and
now
he
's
threatening
to
take
over
my
real
life
.
