Lake Neuron

Should auld acquaintance be forgot

Soapstone: A Novel

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Dreamland

It’s a fact of life that no one is as interested in hearing about your dreams as you are interested in telling them. But what’s the use of having a blog if you can’t blither from time to time?

Yesterday, in the course of e-mailing a friend and whining about some things, I said that my breakup a year ago had convinced me I was just not cut out for a relationship. So of course I ended up having a romantic dream Sunday night. I was in Washington for some reason, and this beautiful, funny, intelligent dark-haired woman and I ended up exploring the downtown area. I don’t believe I can identify her with any real acquaintance. We were just about to eat at some sort of spicy exotic restaurant — Thai food, perhaps, or Indian, although things like this are always in flux in a dream. I got separated from my new love for some reason, but there was no sense of panic; I was on my way back to meet her at the restaurant.

In the meantime, I got calls from people I know from here in Shelbyville (at least one of whom was a real person) who happened to also be touring Washington. They invited me to join them for lunch, and I had to tell them that I already had plans and I would take a rain check once we were all back home in Tennessee.

I have no idea what any of it means, of course, but it was one of the most vivid and memorable dreams I’ve had in quite a while. I’ve had a recurring dream about wandering through some downtown area looking for something, and this had elements of that, but that dream usually isn’t romantic.

Well, I’m through boring you with my inner life. We now return to our regularly-scheduled programming.

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