Inks... You monster. What a sweetheart he was all along...
Yes, I am smitten - entirely inappropriately (no, not a student) and quite baselessly, and I've done and will do nothing about it. But it is an interesting feeling - hadn't felt it at all in years and years.
That, and I had a bad dream last night - it was the 1990s (or anyway had aspects of that time) and I was surrounded by 'hipster friends' (or perhaps I should say hipster 'friends'), and I got a very disturbing phone call (on my current mobile phone, so it couldn't have been the 1990s) from someone whose mere voice frightened me terribly - I had a sense he was 'me' (which is a funny self-aware way of thinking in a dream), and he made no sense at all and sounded very very ill. So, he showed up with an unmemorable face and fell down flat on his back on the floor, apparently at his last breath.
Despite my fear I looked closely at his face and noticed his mouth was stuffed with chess pieces. I pulled it open wide and got the impression he was entirely stuffed with them. My 90s hipster friends gave me some more to stuff in his mouth, but that didn't help - if anything, it made things worse.
At this point I got the feeling he was very dangerous, if he reawakened, so I started running, with the real feeling that he was getting up behind me.. I ran down an endless flight of stairs, made of stone and free-standing, so that I could swing myself around each corner - I worked up such a speed that I only touched foot to stair once per flight, and the rest of the time my legs were spinning free.
Finally I reached the ground floor and it was a sort of ultra-cheap shopping mall, in the Thai style but not with Thai people. I had to practically swim in and climb over the crowds of people there, most of who were carrying huge parcels of goods, which I clambered over. I felt him very near behind me, though I didn't see him. Finally I got outside and got into an ancient 1970s Pontiac rather like one I had a couple of decades ago, and began to drive off, but just as he appeared in the back seat to do.. lord knows what.. I was awakened by my alarm.
I suppose the dreaded being was my own past or my own denouement or both. Or guilt.. or the sad reality of a loveless life.
