{.i cannot write poetry but i can dream.}

by devourslowly

As much as I would love love love to be a wordsmith… I am not.  I am more a baker of cakes and dreamer of … well… dreams.  This unfortunate verbal ineptitude  is a terrible letdown for my overactive imagination.  And overactive my imagination really is!  The other day I was most impressed by my patchy recollection of a dream which featured my childhood nemesis, a vengeful kangaroo, a water-fountain and the Daily Planet (yes, as in Clark Kent and Lois Lane).   I am never proud to recount malicious dreams but I am still terribly impressed by my ability to conjure up something this fantastical.  U and E were kind enough to share a giggle and assured me it was quite all right to put my evil cap on in my sleep.  If only I have enough poetry to give this scene justice…  Think about it… if Leonardo DiCaprio gets to shove the dreadful A up where the sun doesn’t shine AND battle the angry kangaroo… wouldn’t Inception be a much better movie?

I am not always this nasty.  Most of my dreams are rather super in fact.  Just last night I dreamed of H and I taking a stroll through a colourful lollipop land infused with vanilla flavoured fog.  Everything was sweet and tasty until I realised H was also a lollipop and that the real H had been held hostage by the lollipop land king who wanted to exchange his safe return with licks… of me.  That is all I can remember… well… I either woke up pretty soon after that or the dream was so traumatic my subconscious is blocking the rest of it out.  Man, Sigmund would have such a field day with me…

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