My unshakable fortitude of positivity and well-being lurched backwards this morning. And bent forward again, coughing up blood. Spatter on the concrete. Carved a smile on my face and said, 'no, it was a wonderful dream.'
It was a pathetic sort of dream in a marshmallowy simple romantic way. It's the sort of dream I have to laugh uncomfortably as I'm telling you to show how much it doesn't mean to me.
I had a dream that I went to the grocery store with Vlad to pick out a cantaloupe (and two peaches, which has less personal meaning, but perhaps more Freudian meaning) - then we went home and ate it together, sitting on a bed. Heh.
I can't be anything but ridiculous, no matter how hard I try. Dreaming of a world where I'm not allergic to cantaloupe and where Vlad likes me.
The only thing keeping me sane is awesome artwork by Alexander and his friends at the Red Bear Dead forums/website. I heart his aesthetic.
Also, SPACED is the best TV show ever. Simon Pegg is a genius.
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