Sunday, November 10th, 2002 | 10:55
Silly subconscious, tricks are for kids.

Dreams last night.
I was trudging through the muck of water-logged grassy hills. It looked like the place in Newfoundland where the Vikings landed. I was going to the ocean. I stomped, determined. My friends had beaten me there and were splashing around. I took off my shirt and jumped in.
Flash forward half an hour or so.
I'm talking with a girl, someone I've known for a while. We're candid and unreserved, discussing everything under the bleak, grey sky as she sits spinning in a giant black inner tube. She tells me the only difference between myself and her very significant other is that he has better arms. Much better arms. Muscles with definition. She gets out of the water, leaving me and my not-so-impressive biceps wondering, "What the fuck? I thought I had nice arms."

back | forth | older | guestbook | mail | profile | rings | diaryland