I had a dream last night/this morning straight out of a Gabriel Garcia Márquez novel.
I was in Louisiana and yet somehow in my old yard at the same time and there was supposed to be a massive storm coming but we were far enough inland that the storm surge wouldn’t affect us directly, but they were calling for some very powerful waves, and before the storm came in there was a lot of fog. And I was talking with some people who were also there (because apparently that was a thing) about the storm and the waves and maybe going down to the beach to see it like dumbasses when all of a sudden a patch of fog exploded into about a thousand birds of different colors.
And I was amazed because these birds looked like cardinals but some of them were purple and yellow and I wanted to feed them so that they’d get close enough to me so that I could take pictures of them, but it turned out I didn’t need to. These birds congregated around me like they knew me as I got down on the grass and started snapping photos and laughing because I was trying not to disturb them but they KEPT FOLLOWING ME. As all of this absurdity was going on, I was composing poetry in my head, but I CANNOT REMEMBER THE LINES. And I looked up at one point and Juneau was there, leaning on one of the wooden pillars the porch my old house had, watching with this strange, knowing smirk on his face, like he had planned this whole scene to delight me even though he HATES BIRDS, and then I woke up.
I have no idea what any of that meant, but it was gorgeous.
-Allēna
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