|Standing amidst the roar of a surf tormented shore .....
||[Aug. 15th, 2014|06:12 am]
Last night: I'm standing in an enormous hall with vaulted ceilings and books everywhere, great, majestic piles of them, along the walls, on rows of low book cases, everywhere. There's a woman with shortish blond hair and large sunglasses standing next to me. I'm looking at the books, she notices me and says:
"Oh, you're real person."
"What?" I say.
"We're both dreaming, our dreams got crossed. Now that I told you, you're going to wake up soon."
And I feel this weird feeling, because I know it's a dream, and it's like I'm being pulled out of there and everything's getting all tingly.
"How do I know you're real?" I say, realizing that I'm waking up.
"My favorite bands are Kaylea Ann and Woodpecker K-A-Y-L-E-A; keep repeating that until you wake up and then write it down quick. You'll like them."
I woke up repeating "Kaylea Ann and Woodpecker & dutifully wrote them down.
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