Dreams
Fleetwood Mac
Here’s a humorous spin on your day and dream:
---
My day kicked off on a solid note. We did JFT, which was basically me pretending to be awake while my brain was still on snooze mode. Then Suri, bless her, made me a scrambled egg so perfect it probably deserves its own Michelin star.
Of course, I had to miss sound and art class because—drumroll—I was preparing for Gagan's grand arrival. Spoiler: It was worth it. We had a lunch that was a United Nations of food, with my inmates making guest appearances at the table, adding just the right amount of chaos to the continental fusion.
Afterward, we parked ourselves in the lobby outside my bedroom for some quality chit-chat. The kind of deep, philosophical conversations that make you go, “Wait, what were we even talking about?” Before I knew it, Gagan had to hit the road, and thus ended a delightful afternoon.
But hold on, the real action started in my dream last night. Picture this: I'm dreaming... about something weird. So naturally, I grab a pair of binoculars (because, of course, that’s what you do in a dream) to see if what I’m seeing is real. Spoiler alert: It is. And it’s more shocking than finding out pineapple on pizza is a thing.
The scene? Soni Dave and Meenu Nageshwaram—holding hands, kissing, and basically turning my brain into a pretzel. I nearly fainted in the dream, which somehow jolted me right out of it. Moral of the story? I need new binoculars. Or less surreal dreams.
That's it for now folks !
No comments:
Post a Comment