Early in the morning, I dreamed of having to stop a dragon sacrifice; it was a white dragon and related to the Matter of Britain, but not in the fashion of Merlin's dream. In the last dream I can remember before I got up, I was in a shell-hole waiting for a direct hit. I can see how this image evolved out of both recent media and current events, but it feels a little unnecessarily on the nose. I am intrigued that my brain cast me as a combat medic when I spent so much of the weekend trying to get hold of doctors; maybe it just thinks it would be more efficient. The substance of the last few days is that I am not in good shape and it is not fun.
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- 1: In Memphis, on Valentine's Day
- 2: Just like a bad plot, I won't tell you why
- 3: I'll ring twice, like the postman always does
- 4: How about I create a mess and then solve the mess and then I'll be a hero
- 5: There's no kind of atmosphere
- 6: Anything you crave, a certain curse
- 7: Never tasted anything like you before
- 8: None of us are traitors till we are
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