Dream Journal

Three Disconnected-Feeling Dreams

Walking outside, freshness of air is strong. I make it to a pedestrian bridge where I can see through the cables to the waters below. I’m exhilarated but also afraid — of what I’ll do. I’m keenly aware of my phone in my pocket, thinking it might be thrown.

Out among the urban streets of San Francisco, I hear a crack and watch as people on the sidewalk are engulfed in stinging white gas. It then happens to me, and I remember what I learned: to breath sad, and virtually.

Building a drawer into an existing kitchen cabinet. I discover by pulling the assembly out that by luck where I’ve placed it is very close bring securely installed. As if the sliding diagonal piece was made for it.

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