Well, I've done it again. More Barrow-Downs dreams. I blame it on having only eight hours of sleep in the past seventy-two hours. That, and a broken alarm clock that refuses to die.
But back to my fascinating story. In my dream I was walking along this grassy lane, having just come back from sliding down a pile of metal snow and into the ocean, when I spied a most interesting scene.
Legate was leading a seance with
Thinlómein,
Lindale, and
Guinevere and all of them were standing in a circle with their arms in the air and apples on their heads singing some mournful balled. They stopped singing as I approached saying something like "My subconscious must be having a field day!" to which they responded to by holding up candid photos of me. Apparently,
Legate had been following me around for the past six weeks or so and taking pictures which he had then sent to celebrity magazines and sold for exorbitant sums of money. And then just as
Lindale was about to reveal what it had all been about my drated alarm clock woke me up. I may have to throw it into a snow bank for revenge.
Anyway, thank you for providing me such an entertaining night, but you have a lot of explaining to do.
