Dear Stewart,

I've been having an interesting week of dreams. Does that ever happen to you? I'm kind of on drugs - my allergies have been sucky, so I've been hitting the Benadryl a bit lately. I only take it at night, and only once in a while (a Benadryl addiction would be so embarrasing) because it makes me crazy sleepy (somewhere I read that Benadryl is given to psychotic children, for what purpose, I'm not sure, but I bet it has something to do with calming them down and making them, pardon the pun, "crazy sleepy"), but I suspect that this is the cause.

(Isn't it a little lame that I think you're going to be interested in my not-very recreational use of Benadryl? Or my fucking dreams?)

The other night I dreamt that I was part of a training program where the exercise was in walking on water. Yep, just like Jesus! Or fashion models, I forget which (it's not worth going into the personality/physical traits I lack to fill either job description)! There have been other truly psychedelic and fascinating dreams during the aforementioned time period, but I'm only going to bore you with talking about the one I had last night, and only just a little, because I know hearing people discuss their dreams is tiresome.

Last night's adventure had me and Patrick embarking on a trip to the moon! We were traveling on what looked like a regular old airplane, but wearing coveralls like the astronauts (or Sting) used to wear (I think NASA astronauts now just wear a t-shirt and what look like sweatpants. They look like they're just going to run to the store). There was a bunch of scientific stuff we had to do, and we did it, no biggie.

Later I seem to remember that we were also in some sort of intergalactic store room, where all the parts and tools involved in the time machine were kept, but I don't know, even I'm bored with the retelling of this dream.

Tonight I'd like to just sleep, and then, when it's time - and no sooner - wake up. Unless I dream about winning the lottery or meeting you (again), I'm not all that interested anymore.

Love you,
Irene