dreamin' my life away
You know how one of the most boring things in the world is to listen to a person drone on about a dream they had? How they leverage in unnecessary details that have no bearing on the actual story, and at the end you have wasted 10 minutes listening to something irrelevant to your life, the whole time wanting to poke yourself -- or the other person -- in the eye with a fork?
Well, because I'm incredibly self-absorbed I thought you might want to hear about my dream last night...
Outside after a fashion show, one of the models -- a tall, thin (imagine that) young black woman -- gave me a doll to hold.
A car approached, and somehow removing the doll's hair was what was necessary in order to open a gate to let the car through.
Then it turned out that by removing the doll's hair, I had removed the model's actual real hair. It was long and thick and shiny and I was stressing out. If you tried to come up with a person less likely to be happy about me messing with her hair, a young black woman (and a model!) is probably as far as you can go in that direction. Unless maybe it's Wolverine.
So while I'm trying to figure out how to tell the girl what I've done, the hair started turning into a dead boa constrictor in my hands.
Then I woke up.
Anyway, I'm pretty sure this means I'm ready for the white jacket with extra-long sleeves. But if I have to go, at least I'll go talking about myself...