Pot like Moss

I dreamed that my ex-boyfriend from a long long time ago came to visit me in my home which was in the south but not Atlanta. There were all these sick people around- people in wheelchairs, people on breathing machines, people in beds sort of desperately reaching for the ceiling and wailing. awful really. But it was this romantic setting (!!!) that he and I decided we were going to try to have a relationship again.

His appearance was alternating between the way he looked that first day I picked him up from the Greyhound station in Chicago 13 years ago (long hair, bandanna headband, soft skin and gentle eyes, carrying a picnic basket) to how he looked the last time I saw him about 3 years ago (short hair, grown up, more edgy and measured, still familiar and comfortable).

Then the house turned into his house instead of mine and I was getting ready to leave. While I was gathering my belongings I kept finding these enormous clumps of pot everywhere in his house- stashed in vases, on shelves, in flower pots, and I asked if I could take some for the road. He was worried to give it me but I assured him it would be fine. I took what looked like a clump of moss and wrapped it in a pink handkerchief I found in my purse.

Then I woke up and found that in real life, he had just left me a comment on my blog.