Vanilla

So, yesterday night I procured an uneventful dream.  I’d call it plain vanilla, except it still had that lack of continuity keeping it mildly out of the norm.  French vanilla.  There.

I attended a party for a guy I went to elementary school with; everyone from our class was there.  I brought a gift bag that had the following: an envelope with $40, a digital camera, and a mac keyboard and mouse.  Instead of giving him the gift myself, I told my friend to give it to him as her gift.  The festivities ended, and I walked back home.

Sunset was nearing, but I had the urge to go back the venue.  When I turned around I noticed that, where the road was a moment ago flat, it changed into a hilly street.  It was perfectly paved with a wide bike lane along the side.  I started walking.  A little further up the road, three cyclists bulleted past in the opposite direction.  I thought, “I should have brought my bike.”

I reached the location of the party, but continued walking aimlessly forward.  A country fair was up the road, so I made my way toward the animals.  Most were hybrids: zorses, shaggy pony mules, and the like.  When I noticed a small sheared sheep, a couple from behind me walked along side me.  The man said to his wife and me, “Watch out for that one.  It’s fresh,” then pointed to the animal waste three feet away.  That’s when I looked down and noticed I walked in with stiletto boots.

Ha, silly unconscious; I’d never sacrifice stiletto boots.

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