Now I see the origin of my dream: I was Chatting with a friend from long ago, and we were looking at pictures on Facebook of our mutual friends from then, and talking about how old everyone was now.
I dreamed of myself. I was not like myself at all: I was an older lady, very well put together with silver-white hair and a turquoise ensemble, cinched waist, full skirt, bolero, heels; I had clean glasses and a nice pen, and I was looking up articles in JSTOR. It went on like that.
Really I jumped up and put on black jeans, and rushed off. Everyone is as they were, but only I seem to believe it. It might be because I am still a TA, really; I was about to be late to Spanish 3, and I had this album in my head.
Axé.
coldhearted scientist وداد 