|i think somehow you remember your dreams more often, if, while you are awake, you think about wanting to remember them.|
this morning i dreamt i was with you.
we were getting away. in a wooded area. you notice the fresh smell. pine trees.
how much cleaner it is away from the congestion of our freeways.
we were at a cottage. it was vintagely cluttered. there was a wire, round birdcage.
faded blue walls, yellow accents. a lady was showing us around. a different white haired, city-rooted, woman was trailing us around the home. she seemed to have a puzzled expression. so i whispered to her, "it is a bed and breakfast." she vanished immediately. i wore a daisy floral skirt. the air was light, the freedom of vacation. we walked down a stoney path, someone was trying to sell us something. i naturally went to grab your hand and remembered to pull it back in time. the bird in the cage was singing. the cottage owner smiled at us and waved.