Dream

What can I say?* There just hasn't been too much going on.

I mean, there has, but nothing really blogworthy.

Well, I did have an unusually realistic dream last night. I was visiting my high school.

I took note of the surprising fact that this vision was, indeed, a locale resembling my high school. You see, much of my dreams are of the sort where I wander flooded highways searching for my pink aardvark and thinking to myself, "gee, isn't Disney World nice?"

This was one of the first dreams I've had where I see my school and actually recognize that it IS my school. And vice versa.

So, anyway, I magically appeared right outside the door of the blackbox theatre. I was smoking a ciggy. Apparently I also thought it would be amusing to blow the toxic fumes into the faces of my disgruntled peers. Then I decided to put it out, so I dropped it, fully lit, into my pocket.

But it didn't catch fire, of course. Because dreams just aren't that logical. My jacket's chances of catching on fire would've increased tenfold had I not been smoking.

And that's a fact. But, anyway, I arrived in the middle of a performance. Everyone was in costume, and one of my friends from a nearby high school had arrived for an acting class with my director, who could apparently be in two places at once.

Everyone looked just like they do in real life. And I called them all by their proper names. This is a rare phenomenon in my dreams. Generally, not only do I misname my friends, but I also turn into them at some point during the course of the conversation. IDENTITY CRISIS!!!

So, anyway, I see all my old friends and then I go into the empty theatre (because this is in the middle of a performance, of course it's empty).

That's it.

*I used to look at people's yearbooks when I was a freshman in high school, and I saw this one that said "Dear Jack, What can I say?" It continued, but those four words struck me with their profundity.

Then I realized that everyone signed their yearbooks that way.