Weird dream. I got in line at the library to look up the book A Wrinkle in Time and see if they had it, proceeded to unframe a cross-stitch I was working on while in line, and told the desk guy, who didn’t care, about writing a book in Columbus (literally couldn’t remember the name of my actual town at the time, Newark) instead of going to college, which wasn’t even true. Weird. Why didn’t I just look the book up on the computer?
The way I’m always dropping the names of places I’ve lived, it’s like I’m breadcrumbing in my dreams. Who the hell am I leading to me?
B
