ok ok last night i dreamt that i was at the country house of one of these families that think theyre so amazing
and nobody else could possibly relate, it was a big family of gingers, ages ranging from 10 to maybe 60,
in a beautiful neighborhood in the forrest with hills and so forth, where all the neighbouring families was pretty much the same.
so i visiting for some reason, didnt fit in and couldnt make any friends cos they were all just so superior, i was getting pretty bored with it, when the ice cream trucks pull up down the road and all the kids run down,
and when they come back i see this one kid throwing what i thought was a fire cracker down a near by ditch
and the explosion that followed was just immense and it killed one kid and wounded a few and so forth.
so now everybodys wondering what the hell was that and the kid is all shook cos he didnt realize the explosion was going to be so powerful,
and women and children are crying, men are shouting and there is general pandemonium.
so im interested again looming around looking at people when i find a bunch of samurai comics tucked away akwardly by a sewer, and in between them a couple of sticks of dynamite, which looked home made. so the kid had actually thrown a stick of home made dynamite, the little rascal.
i take the dynamite and the comics and hold them for a while, not knowing what to do with it, and then put it back.
but because of that i touched it, my fingerprints are on there, and im all of a sudden being questioned by the family down their veranda,
because they think i did it, and the older cousin is getting especially shirty with me, with his ginger hair and shit, they couldnt possibly beleive their perfect little son did it, and i couldnt somehow bring myself to tell them it was him, so i decide to fly away, im kind of swimming upwards in the air and then i woke up