So this dream involved this random British gent, younger than I am by a few years, and most likely would be the author of one of the diaries I read daily in real life. Yes, that is rather stalker-ish of me, and I do not deny it. However, the strange thing is I was at Kurt's for several days and didn't read ANY of the diaries I usually do. So I don't know why Tim popped up. But he did. Weird.
Anyhow, so here I am in London, in this dream. Wandering around (never been there, so the scenery was rather sketchy), and I come across this book vendor on the street. And I pick up this book, and I check out the author -- it's that random British gent, and it's someone I've known for a long time. Apparently the book is his journal in printed form, with typescripts and images of the actual diary to show his handwriting and whatnot. I flip through the book, and see a sentence that pops out -- something about a girl with cinnamon-coloured hair (can cinnamon as a colour denote red?), and I know he's talking about me. So I grin a bit to myself and read on, only I can't really read his handwriting because this entry was one of the xeroxed entries.
The next thing I know, I have bought the book and am sitting in a cafe of sorts with the random British gent talking about the entry about me and why he was so kind and generous in his description of me. The overwhelming feeling I had during this dream was one of simply kind and thoughtful friendship, the kind where you're sure of where you stand with the other person, and no matter what happens between you or how far apart you are, the two of you will always be close in spirit.
So I guess I was kind of thinking about Sandy then all through this. Her 22nd birthday was the second of December, and all through this holiday season I have been wishing, just a tad, that instead of a flight to Arizona I could have been granted a flight to Boston. Not that I'm not excited about Arizona, because I am so stoked I cannot describe it. But I would just like to see her again, that's all.
Stalker-ish dreams... I swear I'm the oddest person. I took a quasi-nap today, and hoped a bit to get back into that dream, and it was one of those naps where you know you're going to fall asleep and it feels so damn good doing it. And then you ARE asleep and you don't even know it... until your sister calls and wakes you up. Then you get so stressed out about finals that you can't sleep anymore. Bah. :o)
Finals -- that time of year again. And I am grateful that I have mostly take homes, but on the same token it just stretches the tension out even more. Instead of having three hours to worry about the problems you KNOW you can't solve on the test, you have a week. Or more. Depending. The graphics test is like that for me, but office hours for the professor are early tomorrow morning and I shall be outside his office waiting. This one last assigment, and then I can kiss graphics GOODBYE!! WOO HOO!! At this point, I don't care about my grade. Really I don't. It's sad. Makes me feel like a slacker since my friend is also in the class and really worried about every assignment he does. He's no slacker.
I keep thinking about what I will be doing next week. Wednesday I go home for the holidays -- back to my father's house. Maybe my stepmom and I won't argue this year since I'll only be there a week. :o) Unfortunately, I miss my sister by a few days since she's heading up there tomorrow, but she's already got her Christmas presents for me. Everyone is shopped for, just need to wrap them.
Speaking of which, my sister forgot to mention in her gift-wrapping entry, that while she has not inherited the Gift Wrapping Gene, I have gotten small pieces of it, if that be possible. :o) You see, every time I wrap something for someone (usually my dad begs me to wrap everything for him), they always compliment me on the wrapping job, even though I can see that it's not quite perfect. Momma definitely has it perfected, but I am certainly on my way there. I also like to wrap gifts, to make them look pretty and appealing. There MUST be at least a bow on the box, if not ribbon also. My stepmom is anti-bow -- I grew up in a house of boring flat gift packages. If she does use them, they're recycled from previous years, meaning that they're either flat or missing from the box since they have no adhesive left. It's all about presentation... just like on the Food Network. :o)