"Contains the legendary disemboweled dogs scene"
oh i thought i had told you. fri night's dream was very simple. but very unique in that i never dream of names or color schemes or exclusively using pov angles. i was standing in the stacks of an old library. i don't see my surroundings but i'm somehow aware of them. the shots are totally pov and i see my left hand very pale reach up to a newer looking book that stands out because of it's coloring. all the others are old and dusty, but this has shiny silver foil lettering, in a huge bookman-type font "PREU". and deep purple broadcloth or whatever they use for covering most books, meaning the covering wasn't velveteen or anything extravagant. i had the distinct feeling that you were a fabulous well-known writer, possibly because of the appearance of the name. and as i pulled it out, i felt satisfied that i had foreseen such things, i felt a sense of good memories swimming around, that kind of drunken feeling when blindsided by a rush of goodness, good memories. and i was curious about where you were, what you wrote about, or possibly who wrote about you. i didn't open it though, i just felt the letters and the cloth and thought about you and put it back. ["it's interesting that in both these dreams i remember the distinct feeling of memories swimming around as i performed actions, though i, in my dream state wasn't able to access the exact memories, but rather just the feelings they brought."]