think I don't breathe sometimes when I sleep. . .
was having one of those. . .I'm trapped in the moldy staircase of the car park of a shopping mall. . .flashing to. . .the shopping mall is closing and I have to put back together the sewing machine I just knocked into a thousand pieces on the floor. . . then somehow I woke up- as if from non-breathing- screaming the name of this girl I used to know and really don't like*. . .
now what to do. . .
the mosque men are singing. . .
the fasters are doing their morning chow down. . .
will it be meditation. . . or back to bed. . .
think I'll check the dream dictionary for what it means to dream about sewing machines. . .
hi Saturday
xoxox
Tuesday
*(hate to say I don't like someone but. . .it's true. . .when i can hear or think of this person's name without scowling I'll know I have evolved a quantifiable amount)
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