i know it was a long and interesting dream. when i woke up, i could still remember bits and scenes, i had the feelings, but not the details — and then this reminded me of a really teenage poem i wrote … you know, when i was a teenager. maybe i should see if i can recall it from memory, because every blog should have bad teenage poetry in it somewhere. and cat pictures. but i don’t have any of those right now.
but the one dream image that’s stuck with me throughout the day, and annoyingly enough, is with me still, is this: chris wandering around the house dressed only in bread. yes, bread. sliced bread. wheat, i think. stuck to various bits of him, no idea how it was sticking to him, and then there was the slice he had stuck between his ass cheeks.
why can’t he understand that after he acts like that in my dream, i’m going to be a little fussy at him? i mean, if i dream something that annoying about a person, they must have done something to cause it.
so anyway the silly adolescent poem was about that just on the tip of your mind feeling, that can’t quite get to it feeling. i may add it in the more text later.