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10:01:2005 Entry: "Ann : With Dreams Like These, You Don't Need Nightmares"
With Dreams Like These, You Don't Need Nightmares
I saw a list go by me; was it on a computer screen? Was it on paper? I don't know, it was a list of images, jpeg images, with prices by them. Stan made the list. What the hell was he doing, selling jpeg images? I looked again, they were images from our old import singles collection (45s with picture sleeves) and he was listing them on ebay. I got mad at him. "What the hell are you doing? You can't sell copyrighted images!" Oh, no, he wasn't selling the images, he was selling our singles--without consulting me first. OK, well, we could use the money, but at least consult me, huh? I got mad at him because many of those singles I purchased, so I would be owed a good deal of the profits. I asked him about this, and he sort of ignored the question, as if that wasn't in the plan. I then get mad at him and yell, literally yell out loud something like "You did this without consulting me...blah blah" but by the time I could yell any more, I had woken him and myself up. She was quite bland looking, mousey blonde. I walked up steep stone and concrete garden steps to confront her in person. She didn't know who I was, she was my nemesis of her own choosing. Stan accompanied me. She had some strange thing that only makes sense in dreams...some rack with different colored pieces of paper or small books or bookmarks in hues and shades of assorted light greens...some artsy thing. It was as if we were in some art store. I leaf through these things and I say to her, "you forgot one." Puzzled, she looked at me and asked "what did I forget?" "You forgot the one where you talk about how much you hate my website." She feigned further puzzlement hiding the shock of embarrassment beneath. She'd been found out and now she had to cover herself. I forgot the exact course of events, but I know my continuing presence is making her feel very uncomfortable. I don't wish to stay myself, but I do anyway, just to annoy her. I probably say something about not saying things about people when you know they are in earshot, but I'm sure the metaphor goes over her head. --- Edited to add: For some odd reason, I also recall (probably in reference to the 2nd dream) me saying: "Homey don't play that!" a few times in anger. That sort of makes the bad dreams all worthwhile.
6 Comments
I have to make you mad sometimes - it's my job - as your boy. I will stand with you aginst your nemesis though.
Posted by Stan @ 09:19:2005:07:37 PM CST
Aginst? You mean against, Jeb?
Posted by Ann @ 09:19:2005:07:39 PM CST
Am I a bad speller or are my white rural roots showing again?
Posted by Stan @ 09:19:2005:07:40 PM CST
Yep.
Posted by Ann @ 09:19:2005:07:41 PM CST
Yep - mouths a yappin.
Posted by Stan @ 09:19:2005:07:42 PM CST
So, when we're in Colarada, should we-a-look up Carl?
Posted by Ann @ 09:19:2005:07:43 PM CST
By Ann @ 23:58 AM CST:10:01:05 ..::Link::..
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