|Current mood:|| recumbent|
|Current music:||Frank Zappa - Joe's Garage - "Fembot in a Wet T-Shirt"|
So I had the weirdest dream last night. It included Jerit/Jim Burda (a combo identity), David, the guitarist for Hootie and the Blowfish, and me. I wonder why most users of these journal things tend to capitalize and use correct grammar, yet on AIM or anything else like that, they don't (with the exception of Nick). Weird. I'll continue conforming though. So anyway, Jerim, David, and I were in a pool like at a hotel or something..it was inside..and all of a sudden i realize, "Oh shit, we're swimming and I still have my wallet." So I take out my wallet, only to behold that, alas, it's David's! My deer. But Jerim was between David and me, so David didn't see. So, being the inquisitor that I am, I peruse the contents and find lots of checks and $100 bills. At this point in the dream, the wallet magnifies into like a wallet folder, like the ones used in McGoo's class. I guess there's some symbolism that correlates my exaggerated view of the exorbitant amount of money with that of the size of the wallet. Anywhere, there was some other guy to the right of me (we were all leaning on the edge of the pool), and he glances over at the wallet brimming with stacks of white and green papers. I start counting the money because I'm curious as to how much is there, and this fella asks if he can count or help count. I say no. All the while, Jerit (the Jim ego kind of went away at this point) pulls out some schoolwork from somewhere (the hell if I know where) and starts working on that, in the pool mind you, while I count David's money (for some reason I can't count in dreams). David is oblivious. He's probably making an ass out of himself somewhere. THEN..the Hootie guitarist comes up..he's a lifeguard guy..and tells us that we can't do that in the pool because we're taking up too much room. Now, in the dream, this pissed me off quite a lot because I looked to my left and right, and besides the people next to me, the pool was virtually infinitely long, with infinite amounts of room. But before I could tell the guy anything, he walked away. I woke up. Took a shower. Made this journal. Talked/talking to Marki. Wrote. And now I'm off.
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