I don’t want to get over philosophical about this, but I want to say it anyways. Whenever I have a dream that involves another person, I feel the overwhelming urge to tell them about it. If a dream makes you feel emotion even if it’s just humorous and there is another somebody involved in that doesn’t it just seem natural to let them know the way they made you feel? Even though they cannot do anything about what they did or said. Like double-you shaped keys, or when that one person was a midget Siamese twin with Dave Attel.
I used to hate these dreams, now I embrace them. I love dreaming because most of the time it is silly and trivial and includes crazy situations. Remember the movie Brazil? I feel like my dreams are three minute sections of a movie that is similar to this one. I cannot remember the plot to that movie, just that there were a good number of odd scenes pieced together.
Well, last night I had a dream about someone who I never can seem to catch on AIM and that’s nearly exclusively the form of communication I have had with this person. So, if you ever stumble across my blog: You were dating one of my co-workers and came to pick this person up and then on your way out the door you gave me a hive five. So, thanks for the high five.