Lately dreams have been vivid and searing, blurring lines and lives. I wake up feeling a message has been passed, an insight given and yet I do not possess the codebreaker needed. It's frustrating. And those Internet dream dictionaries are full o' crap. Fascinating how little is known of dreams, their powers and headwaters. I wonder how much are aquifers of hope; little pockets of the untainted. Does that make sense? Optimism encased in the granite of adult realism. Dreams of floods, exes, weddings, ships, music, chaos, fire, secrets, trysts, a red minivan, death, peril, and playing Ani DiFranco's “Adam and Eve” on guitar. I do not like waking to a head more full then when I consciously left it.
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