Dreams and the French

Dreams and the French

Blogger is having some growing pains…I haven’t been able to post since last night. I’m glad to have been able to this afternoon, but it’s still random whether or not it’s going to work….

But, I wanted to mention that I had a *great* time with my French friend, Anne-Helene. She is truly a sweet and funny girl. And a good cook, to boot. 🙂 She lives in the world’s most ornate house. Her landlady, unbeknownst to her when she agreed to live there, is a francophile. So everything (*everything*) is French. There is actually a poster of a view of her school in Paris hanging in her bedroom, and she didn’t bring it with her. It got funnier and funnier as the evening went on. (“Oh, look at that…a poster of ‘les confitures’ and ‘le vin'”) It was like walking through a dictionary.

I’ve been having strange dreams. So now of course I’m compelled to tell you what I’m dreaming, too. Last night I went to Latin America. I think I won some kind of trip. I don’t know what city I was in, but I got a tour from a nice, hefty, strong man who took me into a boat. It was like any old-style city, except that the narrow streets were filled with water. And I noticed I was taken on the tour that at every corner there was a pole sticking out of the water with a red scrap of fabric on the top. And if you looked under the water, you could see that there were dead black men shoved into the foundation of the street with those poles jabbed into their chests. They were gory, too, still bloody and stuff. It was horrific. There was more, something about trying to find a place to stay, and I was scared, because there was this impending sense of violence. It’s quite an image to have in your head, let me tell you. Now you can share it with me. 🙂

Off to salmon’s tonight….yay!!

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