Last night I had a dream that it was night forever and my job was to go out deep into the forest and write about bugs. I found this one enormous, seemingly dead rolly pollie that was crystallized in goo, but then it came to life and crawled around like a disgusting dinosaur insect. I checked my watch only to find that it was 2 o'clock in the afternoon and then sun still hadn't risen. The sky over head was midnight black and dotted generously with glowing pinpricks. Begrudging the fact that it was still fully night at 2pm (actually, I was freaking out about it) I walked around to the south side of the farm house which I currently inhabit, only to find the sun blazing overhead and young beautiful people in peasant skirts and braids in their hair floating and pirouetting about.
The dream ended when Zach Galifianakis was found asleep in a tree with a bottle of brandy, cuddled up with my friend's two dogs--Katy and Sancho. How they spent the night in a tree only dream-logic will tell ya.
Now it's time for pancakes.
Another note to self: dreams are a lot less cool and interesting eight hours later.
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