silverrevolver

The sun is out, I'm on to some cash kitchen work, so hopefully that pans out. Time to actually start to act like I live here, as opposed to just visiting. Friendships must be developed, as I have until this point placed myself in a bubble in the corner (and we all know what happens to bubbles).

My head hurts, how many beers did I drink last night?

A Dream:

I am at the top of a mountain, there are other people there. I know them. I am especially aware of an old woman and a young girl. There is a lake on my left, green grass everywhere, trees behind me and a train resembling the MAX back in Portland. There is a sheer cliff in front of me, I stand on the edge, but I am not afraid. There is a gravel road that spirals around the mountain.

An old green pickup truck drives up the mountain, it stops just below me, about 300 feet down, I can see it clearly. It backs up as if turning around, and charges full throttle up the cliff (as opposed to following the long spiral road). It jolts, falls backwards, spins out and falls off the cliff. I watch in horror

Many other things happeb after this, I ride the train with the smalll girl, I swim with the old lady, but I cannot stop talking about the truck. I repeat the story over and over. I am woken by Tom's terrier and the morning sun.