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Only fragments today.

I remember being at a table in my old elementary school, Grade 5 classroom.  We were sitting with our desks all pushed together, with about 4 on either side, and reading books or something.  I took out a book which I had almost finished, and the cover looked like it was a book of Dostoevsky’s.  In fact, I’m sure it was by Dostoyevsky, as I’m sure his name was mentioned.  I looked inside and saw that there were a number of times that the term “alter” was mentioned, and I thought that the person next to me might notice, and notice that it was becoming something typical of me to be reading about this subject matter.

In the book, the images came to life in my imagination.  I saw a line of people who were traveling together, through a city, and were at the end of their story, which seemed to be about 500-600 pages long.  There was someone being carried on each of their shoulders.  The colours in the city were light and brown-tinged, or sandy-hued.  They seemed eclectic and unpredictable.

There was one character who was especially unusual and seemed apart from the rest.  He was in a dirty, white suit and had long hair.  He had a pale complexion.  There were other eccentricities about his attire, but I can’t be sure of them anymore.  Anyway, his name was ART.  He was also effeminate.  He seemed dangerous to me.  He took out a gun and used it to kill a number of people I think?  He was a central character in some action that happened while I read, anyway, and I forget why he did that.  He might have been someone riding on someone else’s shoulders.

Also, I remember that at the table, a boy sitting on the other side of the table, to my left, took a picture of me.  He reminded me of a childhood friend of mine, “Kenny”.  He was kind of pudgy but mostly just a cute, geeky kid who seemed quite young.  Anyway, he did his picture-taking without asking, so I was annoyed.  The picture came out not as intended, however: my head was down and I was frowning.  I guess he really wanted a picture of my face?

I have a random image of going to one of my pyschologist’s office, too.  I was a bit late and she was treating me with indifference because of it.  Her whole tune changed just because I was a little late, and that was annoying.  She was trailing off and I was trying to ignore it, because I just wanted to get the session started.  But as I did, I started trailing off too, and I thought, “I might be switching now…” and then I don’t recall anymore.

The last image I recall is of me standing at my current apartment’s window.  I saw an arm of my ivy plant, which had grown very thickly, but only in this narrow arm, which was smushed up against the window, outside of which was daytime light.

Ugh, so frustrating to sit here feeling all my dream-memories fall through my fingers like sand.  Guess I should have written them out as soon as I woke up.  Next time.

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