Utopian Turtletop. Monsieur Croche's BĂȘte Noire. Contact: turtletop [at] hotmail [dot] com

Friday, October 13, 2006

Dad came back to drive my brother and me around on errands. He looked how he looked before he got sick, and the only thing that had changed since he had died was that he had become incredibly quick and agile, and he could catch vermin with his bare hands -- he caught a mouse in the neighbor's kitchen -- I don't remember why we were at the neighbor's house (Julie H., I think; she wasn't there). I asked him if he had met God, and he had, and it had been pleasant, but I don't remember what he said. It took a while before I realized he had to go back.
-- last night's dream

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