--{ dream, last night }------
In my dream, I see people I haven't seen in years. Not just people I hadn't seen in years but have now gotten back in touch with in a real and honest and friendly way, but people I have actively tried not to see in years, people I thought I never wanted to see again. In my dream, they are hanging out with the people I hadn't seen in years but have now gotten back in touch with in a real and honest and friendly way.
In my dream, we are all in an airport, or in an airport lounge, or in an airport hotel room. Or, uh, in an airport horror movie ride, complete with free taro root refreshments that I forgot to pick up.
In my dream, I write a poem, the first line of which is, "When I am good, I remember to be anthropomorphic." In my dream, I illustrate this poem in ways that I cannot in real life, because, honestly, I am terrible with drawing people. Heads, what I am really terrible at drawing is heads. In my dream, I am only just starting the head, having completed a wild tangle of legs, but I can tell that the head is going to be good, real good. Most of the illustration consists of a bunch of legs, though, scattered across a bed. But the last set of legs lead up to a head, or to a torso at least. When I am good, I remember to be anthropomorphic.
In my dream illustration, the legs are tumbling all over a bed, the very bed I am sitting on in my dream, because, after all, I am in an airport hotel room. In my dream illustration, the head of the figure I complete is a weird subtle blend of my own face with that of her, the ex of the person I am pursuing in my dream, only in real life I do not know what this ex looks like nor am I actually pursuing this person, at least not to my mind, at least not that I will admit. We are all sitting on the bed, the ex, the person I am pursuing, and I.
In my dream, the ex has blondish hair mixed with blackish, brownish hair, not in the blonde- mixed- with- black- and- brown way that my hair is, oh no, but the very opposite, with her black and brown being the dyed parts. And her hair is curly and short while mine in my dream is straight and long long long. And she wears much mascara and she smokes in that cool drained way that I am too excitable to imitate, and the person I am pursuing tells her, "I do not like you," and she is rubbing that person's shoulders and saying "you really know how to make a girl fall for you," with sarcasm so strong that she really means what she is saying. And I am silent, because I have no words to add to any of this.
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