Most of it was fuzzy, which is too bad because it was a very good dream. I was at a dance or something; my family was there. I think my friends were, too. I’m not sure. Anyway, there was a guy there, dark hair, handsome, foreign. He had an accent. And he could dance like nothing else. He danced with me, goodness, he could dance. Dance ability is never something I look for in guys, but wow. And then we were sitting at a table: him, my parents, maybe some friends, and we’re talking. He’s talking about a house, a dream house? And he’s talking about me and him living there, and I think it’s really sweet. And it doesn’t occur to me that I just met the guy and in reality it should be creepy.
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