Had a really vivid dream where it was my last year of college, and I was sweating the realization that I was about to graduate with a useless degree—heh, stolen right outta today's headlines.

I had a roommate, and I had left a box on her bed when she first moved in and for some reason never moved it, assuming it would be safe there. Inside were 5-6 tabs of LSD, and I spent most of the dream awkwardly rooting through her stuff after it disappeared—just the stuff that looked like it might have been my box—trying to find them, debating whether I should just TELL her.

I finally found them, after she had moved out without telling me. First I fretted that I'd done something horribly wrong. And I took two of the tabs, hoping to go out and find some old friends and actually have FUN for once in my last year before I hit "the real world." (Heh.)

And then I saw her in the hallway. Not the roommate. She was long gone. Jessie. I looked at her with the saddest, most contrite and hopeful face and said "Hey. How you doing?" And she just said "fine" and proceded to give me the Cut Supreme. Just walked away. And then I woke up.

This is never gonna heal, is it. I knew my classic ADD panic-kitty neurotype wasn't a great match for Kristy's head-butty autistic one, but... I had no idea it was gonna cost me my sisters or fuck us all up forever. I genuinely _hope_ it didn't fuck them up half this bad. I don't even know. I don't really hear things from their world anymore. That's probably for the best.

Anyhow, I head back to New Orleans today, aka Miss Anthracite's Home For Intolerable Tigers. It's a good place. There's plenty of sun, and a warm lizard who likes being petted and actually has the damn sense to change the subject when I'm upset instead of provoking a three-hour debate with references and footnotes. There's a lot that I miss about the Seattle wilds, but... damn if she ain't right that it's safer down here for a bitey catbeast.

(Epilogue: There was one good thing to come out of the dream. My solution to all my college woes was "Huh. You could always take some Chinese language classes after you get out. Real ones, where they actually act like you paid them, not this Case Western shit. There's gonna be plenty of work for translators." That's... not a terrible idea.)