When I dream of Ireland, the flight attendants give you vouchers for a free meal, and the shuttle takes you to a very American looking, off the highway rest area type place, right in the middle of Dublin, where the only thing server is Arbys. But it's free, and Irish. And John is with me.
When I dream of moving on, it is with my best friend's brother and we have a daughter. My best friend does not have a brother.
When I dream of Caroline, she's 6, the flower girl in John's wedding (which I'm at) and she doesn't remember me.
It's been a bad week for dreams.
1 comment:
Poor Melissa :[ I hate dreams sometimes.
Post a Comment