I had the most bizarre dream last night about Polly. I was going to visit her. In prison. And this was the most normal thing in the world.
Apparently it was going to be my first visit but the rest of my family had gone to see her lots. The prison only let visitors in at, like 2 AM. And the prison wasn't very prison-like. Well, you know how dreams are. We had to go from room to room by jumping over the sides of these stair landings and other weird things like that.
And, of course, I was wearing a t-shirt that barely covered my bellybutton and... no pants or underpants. Don't remember if I had shoes on. Why does this ALWAYS happen in my dreams!?
I don't remember a lot of it, though I know there was a good portion that involved preparations for going. We were sitting in my cousin Kevin's kitchen discussing the details. It seemed to go on and on for hours.
Scott & I have a draft of the play we've written - the idea for which came from my family and the eventful weekend of the funeral/wedding/craziness. I suppose that's where all this comes from.
Sure don't like the idea of Polly being in prison.
Sure DO like the idea of getting to visit her.
She seemed pretty content there, by the way.