cold, water I dreamed about getting a text message from Matt reading, "Going to the hospital." Later: I was in a long, narrow living room with wood paneling on most of the walls. The wall above the couch (which was old, and made of a very scratchy fabric) was metal and coverd with magnetic poetry and papers, like a fridge door. I wrote three or four sentences; I don't remember any of them, but one was about my sister. Matt came into the room and read them, and laughed. He was moving to put his... read more
