Dreams be dreams
I had the most interesting, wonderful dream last night. I was living at this hostel sort of place, where my room was no larger than a closet and I can clearly remember stacking up a bunch of books and other personal object in this little space. We were doing some sort of charity work and we were all supposed to donate something of our own to whatever this thing was, and as I was putting up my radio this girl comes busting in, flailing her arms and saying something about injustice this, that or the other. I can’t remember the point she was making, but she was very upset at the hostel. I do remember, though, just before she left, she said something like “If you can’t handle that I’m a hippie, just look at my pants!” as though her trousers would let us know the true nature of her coolness. They were just plain black pants.
Anyway, I had the urge to follow her, and somehow we ended up at this little market (for Cambria County locals, it was the fruit stand in Mundy’s Corner) and I managed to woo her and, though she wasn’t extremely attractive, she was ultra skinny and some sort of revolutionary, always a perk when applied to the female persuasion.
So the moral of the story is, I met an amazing woman and once again had to wake up. It tends to lead one to believe that amazing women only exist in dreams, or on Lifetime…
Up Next: In the interest of "practicing art in all of its forms"