Home * About * Subscribe by Kindle
_____________________________________________
Writers of the Apocalypse * My Music
_____________________________________________

Friday, February 18, 2005

dream

It was a jumble of emotions I wish I could have expressed last night: nothing romantic, though, but they all had to do with the jerk. The part I remember most was him standing at the Boomtown wine counter with paperwork in his hand. Something important had come up - and Britaniana was there - and I'd had to interrupt him to talk to him. He snapped at me of course - he hates being interrupted. I told him, look... do I ever interrupt you unless its important? I never do. After a moment he agreed I was right, but his voice was still on edge. So I repeated myself. Don't snap at me for having to deal with business. I dunno. He was wearing white again. I figure I have to determine what this means, this excessive usage of the colour white.