Coded green.

Thursday 11 October 2007

Screenshot anime Kekkaishi

Pic of the day: But sometime the harsh realities become even more real in dreams! Madness is not the only danger in dreams, there is also boredom...

Short: Dream

I slept a bit in the evening and woke up from a dream that is just typical of my real life.

In my dream, I walk along the road somewhere and a guy comes driving, then stops as he sees me. "Magnus! Is that really you?" says the complete stranger, who doesn't look like anyone I know, and who I have no idea where is from or who he is related to. I really am me, though, which I fail to deny. "It has been SO long! Blab blab blab." He doesn't say how long, which just might have given me a clue, although probably not. Is it a childhood friend? If so, it is safe to say that the friendship must be entirely in his head. The guy is bald and looks to be several years older than me. I certainly did not have any bald childhood friends. Meanwhile he goes on and on about trivial things that clearly concern him, but clearly don't concern me. After a few minutes he pauses in his talking. I say something profoundly meaningful, about how lucky we are to live in a time such as this. He starts talking about his problems with the public bureaucracy, which has evidently misfiled his file at some point. Perhaps earlier this week, perhaps in the 1970es, there really is no way to know. Evidently he is entitled to something and the bureaucracy has been less than expedient in delivering it, whatever it is. Various details about this indignity are forthcoming, but only random deails, no clue as to what it is actually about. From what he tells me, it seems beyond any reasonable doubt that he is a loser and would have the papers to prove it if the local tentacle of the government had not misfiled him. I notice that he has not been starving for quite some while, but I don't say this. Magically a female loser shows up at the locale, evidently a friend of his, corraborating his story. She seems to belong to the same social stratum, but I have no idea whether she too thinks she knows me.

At this point I wake up. I still don't know the guy, though.


Yesterday <-- This month --> Tomorrow?
One year ago: Women conquer online games
Two years ago: Blood sugar
Three years ago: Life, death, variations thereof
Four years ago: My NaNoWriMo characters
Five years ago: Economic growth?
Six years ago: The (stomach) acid test
Seven years ago: Trust me
Eight years ago: The power of telling

Visit the archive page for the older diaries I've put out to pasture.


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