Apr 082013
On Friday, just before I woke up, I dreamt that I was to go foxhunting for the first time in ages, but I was delayed because putting on my snowboarding boots took forever. The hunt left without me, but I was still hoping to catch up. Then my father, who turned out to be some evil fairy-tale king who’d organized the hunt for his own devious purposes, bombed the surrounding countryside, including the two major cities, to rubble. I was disappointed that I wouldn’t get to go foxhuting after all that work of putting on my boots.
Brain, thou art strange.
