(no subject)

I'm writing a story about an ex marine who has PTSD and manages a jewelry store for his brother.

Ta fucking da.

Dream

Very odd.

One of you was delivering a lecture, and I got there early. You were there with another one of you, and I knew that it was you, but I couldn't see you properly. Like, you were all blurry. And the first you, for some reason, I was sure it was you, even though i'm not rightly sure what you look like. And for those Geneseo alums, this was all taking place outside the Black Box theater.

And that's all I remember.