I’m not sure if I want to write or listen. I suppose I’ve chose writing, but I feel just as strongly toward the listening. I had strange long dreams last night. We kept riding by a very well-produced haunted house. The fog, the green eerie light, the plastic stone ghouls. We corralled a cobra a giant Harry Potter snake and then it turned into a blanket we were poking on the ground, still alive, and then it turned into a snake again, it’s defense mechanism to purge its white, lacy innards in our direction. We were keeping the snake to defend a woman who had been assaulted while she worked late in her office.
You know those photos they take when you ride “Splash Mountain” just as you go over the edge? And then after you are finished riding the ride you can see yourself screaming and laughing and laughscreaming – you can even have it for like $20 cause that’s how much it costs Disney to print a digital photo. *enter sarcasm*
Anyway in my dream there was something along those lines for the super awesome haunted house ride and the picture was you and transparent green ghosts riding in your car. This woman was leaving town or had left already and what she wanted most was the picture of her and her lover riding this ride with the cheesy ghosts in the car. It was of the utmost importance to her that she get this photo. The only problem was she didn’t know the ID number and so she couldn’t get the photo. Her lover sent her a very thought out replacement instead. He made something for her, so other sort of photo with him that would mean a lot to her, maybe just as much. What the lover didn’t know was that a stranger, for no good reason, found the number and sent her the photo anonymously.
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