hafoc | Hello again...

Mr. Tourist. From the bottom, sandals, white socks with a red band at the top, red-over-white plaid shorts, white tee-shirt, narrow-brimmed fabric "golf hat" in a plaid that matches the shorts.

Last time I saw him, he had opened up the side door of Hell and was standing there looking astonished, as I bolted out past him before the door could vanish like all the other doors did. This was in one of my more unpleasant dreams that I DID remember.

Which is kind of appropriate, as I'm wishing I could bolt out of hell I'm in right now. But enough on that. It's nothing serious, let me assure you. If it were, I'd handle it.

I don't know what he's a sign of. Perhaps only that the tourist season is upon us, bringing its own particular hell (a rather pleasant and highly amusing one, actually). Other than that, a sign of escape, or a sign that the weasels really are closing in this time? Dunno. Kind of nervous, though.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I have no idea. What feelings did that tourist give you? Mirth? Fear?

Shock. Imagine what it's like to see someone who seems to be the exact same "imaginary" being you saw in a dream 20 years ago. You get into that whole what-is-reality thing, big time.

Sounds strange. Indeed.
For some reason, my dreams never fool me. I can tell they're dreams. Sometimes, I even wake up because I figured out I was dreaming. Like, my dreams never allow me to go back the way I came. I walk down a hallway, and I turn around, and it's no longer the same hallway behind me. Real life has more consistency. Also, dreams are nicer than reality. You dream you have a job when you have none, your girlfriend comes back, etc. And they never make sense. Something is always...off.

Hello again...

Dream...

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