a truth wrapped in a lie

or such is one biographer's appraisal of the writing of camille claudet (fin de siècle writer)...

i'm not sure about claudet's writing but i will say the phrase concisely imparts how dreamlife (my own or others') seduces me. i imagine, because i've been forever tainted by freudian fairytales, them to be great safes with priceless contents and i the geraldo who will crack them.

so as today has yet to spiral into absurd unhappiness and my self-indulgence trunk has already been half emptied on this topic, i move to dreams. and awa-a-ay we go...

last night. i was in this old german candy shop with lots of old people who were waiting in line for chocolates, literally clamoring, and i'm there for a tour of the candy shop. and i have my newly acquired (in the dream) kitten/puppy with me(each time i look down and pet it, it's changed to kitten or puppy, but it's the same animal, i guess just a magic shape-shifter kitten/puppy). it gets loose. and i'm crying bcz i think the mean germans put kitten/puppy in the candy that all the old people are getting ready to devour. then a guy comes from the back of the candy shop and brings me some delicious like turtles or other caramel chocolate goodness. i'm cheered a bit until i realize the germans who own the shop are now yelling at me that they're going to put my kitten/puppy to sleep. then i wake up and i'm kind of sleep-crying. over a cat. i hate cats.