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John Palcewski's Journal

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Shadow / Dream

Lunedi, 29 novembre 2004, ore 02,30. Dream. My father comes into the darkness of my bedroom, sits down on the edge of the bed. He sighs heavily, as in deep, drunk-enhanced sorrow.

“Johnny!” he says.

I know he has big news, which he doesn’t want to tell me, but has to. News I need to hear. “You can wake up gradually,” he says.

Then I’m awake in real life, breathing hard and my heart pounding.

* * *

Analysis: Maybe he just died. Came to say farewell. So what should I say to him?

How about: “Well, goodbye, then. You had more than one chance to work things out between us, but you didn’t. I was willing, but you weren’t. Good luck on your journey.”

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I really like that photo... and not just because I am a feline freeeeeak.

Thanks, I'm partial to kitties me-self.

Many thanks, glad you liked it...

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