is to keep dreaming.
Some sort of odd combination of all the germans in my life. I was running around a Harris Teeter (like the one in cville combined with the original one in the burg). JF, JH, and some of the other exchange students were there, and they were lecturing me on my german. Particularly, the use of ‘sagen’ versus ‘sprechen.’ Again, I find that my subconscious is obnoxiously adept at speaking foreign languages. At least this time it wasn’t spanish again.
Then, for some reason, I was at a beachhouse, trying to set up the sailboat to go out. When, some sort of bug thing attacked me, desperately trying to burrow into my skin. Vaguely like that fly from Floyd with the half-inch stinger.
