And so, the merry dance begins again. 1,100 words today. Mostly old, but some new. But at least I like most of them.
In other news, I dreamt last night that I could remember the plot of No Country for Old Men, but instead I was dreaming some kind of survivalist horror with the Bardem character, and then remembering (in the dream) that I wasn’t dreaming the plot properly). It involved wall-carpet covered rooms and assembling electrical equipment. But fortunately I awoke before I was eaten / deaded / glasgow kissed. Sweet.
What would have happened if you were eated in your dream. Would you have been like the proverbial Irish wolfhound who dreamt he was eating a bone then woke up and fell over?