Dreams and imaginings, super poetic, not
Conversation with my sister.
Me:
oh i just remembered you were in my dream this morning
we were about to have some coffee in a car or something and then the fire department stopped us and said we could not drink in the car as it was a choking hazard and they took our coffee mugs and water bottles
And I cried
Then i tried to twitter about it in outrage but couldn’t get my twitter app to work
we were both going “this is bullshit! and we haven’t had our COFFEE!!!”
Sister:
i had a whole pointless fantasy this morning that i was taking a watercolor class from this guy who only paints half naked women. so in the workshop i waxed poetic about painting mens balls and how important it was to get the effects of light glinting off ball hair.
needless to say i will NOT be taking that workshop
i considered taking the workshop and actually doing this. but quickly discarded the idea.
also: white guy: mostly painting partially clothed women of color gazing into the distance. probably/hopefully plotting his death
I really thought my crying in my sleep about firefighters stealing my morning coffee was going to win some sort of award for ridiculousness but the waking dream of telling off a real life annoying art teacher eclipsed it.