Can't I Just Have One Nice One?

Can't I Just Have One Nice One?

In my dreams last night, I was always trying to get to French at 10:30 but never quite getting there. 

For a couple of nights, my dreams have had this meandering quality; I keep trying to get something, I know where it is, for the most part, but something else keeps me away. 

B made an appearance, I ran into him with some of his sports buddies, at exactly the same corner in another dream. This isn't unusual or surprising; all I've been doing is running into him in real life, yesterday, surprisingly, at Hallowed Ground's. 

By now my dreams are beginning to have a logical University of Chicago of their own. 

CI now almost always makes a cameo, although he does not actually appear in any of the dreams as a talking, thinking, feeling person.  Which is funny because that's not the way I think of him at all.  I think of him as thinking, talking, and feeling--just not about me, and if about me, then slightly off, never to my favor. 

What was my point?

J'ai oublié. 

And the parachutes were made of silk And so were the beds And we traveled where there was no darkness But we didn't need it anymore

She's got a cute little ass and cute little lips.

Quien necesita mas?

Ivy contemplates the shortness of her dress. 

Someone please find me a dress like this to wear.  If you could make my hair this consistency, too, that'd be coo.  

Enjoying me some bread on thanksgiving. 

Mmm. 

Voila c'est la mère de mon aloué.