Last night I had a dream that Tee died while in Madison. His roomie called me telling me the horrible news and my first dream-thought was "shit, he didn't have any life insurance." How cold. How calculating. Is the economy scare that bad that even my subconsious is scheming for ways to protect myself and my child? That's a spooky thought, just in time for Halloween.
After waking up from this dream, in which Tee suffocated/drowned on his own phlegm (yuck), I sent him a text message saying: "I had a dream you died, we both need to stop smoking."
So, here's my Halloween resolution: dramatically cut back and then stop completely. I know my Halloween is going to be filled with a frightening array of booze so it's going to be a tough one as I seldom smoke a cigarette if I'm not drinking. A social smoker if you will. I'll let you know how it goes.
In other smoking news, I found a website that's pretty fucking cool. The pictures are neat, if sad. Is it wrong for me to say that even after viewing them, I still want my own opium den? The opium would be welcome but not required. Instead, I want a lush opium bed with oriental tapestries on the walls and silk bed curtains so I can read my "calligraphic scrolls bearing auspicious sayings" while pretending my bed is a fort. Maybe this stems from needing a place that's mine, all mine or maybe it's from a love of all things ritual? I have very little of either: even bathroom time is not mine, all mine and my daily ritual involved making a cuppa tea and both last about 5 minutes tops.
Anyone want to make me an opium den and buy Tee some life insurance?