Longfellow

Größere Kartenansicht

I should stop eating cheese before going to bed. It was either the cheese or the whiskey but I don’t want it to be the whiskey so I’m going to blame the cheese. Yes, the cheese is to blame for the dreams I’m having and not the whiskey.

It’s always the same dream. It’s always the same leafy road and the dream always stops a few steps away from the red pick-up and the creamy coloured house. I’m sure there’s someone in the car and that someone is watching the house and there’s someone in the house watching the someone in the car. It’s really quiet odd. It’s scares the living daylights out of me.

I’ve never been there, of this I’m sure. It looks American and I know I’ve never been there but it all looks very familiar and I always seem to know my way.

There is someone in the car, but I never get close enough to have a look because my legs, in my dream, refuse to take me closer.