You'd think I lived there.
I was at my friend Scott Pillar's house on Park Drive on Summerland Key, FL. All of his family were there hanging out. We were getting ready to go out for some water sports on his boat.
It turns out that he had recently been to the Philippines and had some ritual done where they embed a small crab in his neck. His brothers were in the other room digging the crab out of his neck. Outside on the dock, there were about a dozen loaded spear guns.
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2 comments:
I just typed this really lovely comment and Blogger ate it.
What I really like about the way you write your dreams is that it's the same way I tell them to Dave. I wake up and I have these rich, vivid memories. The dream stays with me and I can relive every minute of it. But when I go to tell him about, to express the wonder or the horror or the plain oddness of it, it comes out in these flat sentences that can't begin to convey what's in my mind. I'm sure you feel the same way, that you're being very detailed and true when you describe it, but it's not three-dimensional, the way your dreams really are.
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