I dreamt of an annular eclipse. A black sphere with a golden fiery corona hanging in the sky, with an empty city stretching towards the horizon from my vantage point on a small hill. I had my friend's telephoto lens with me and started taking shots, but on every photo I took there were two spheres, as if there were two moons and two suns eclipsed at the same time. The lens was broken. Or was it? The city looked different too. With gigantic, brutalist structures almost defying gravity and, certainly, construction safety laws.

If only this thunderstorm would continue forever. Wash all of it away.

So yesterday's bottle of wine drank to a two hour clip of summer night ambiance may not have been the best of ideas. Then again, I've had worse ones.

I dreamt that one of my exes drowned another one of my exes. This is getting funnier by the night. Sin tapas.

I dreamt that there's a giant moonshine distillery run entirely by anthropomorphic foxes in a cave complex located under Mt. Inari in Kyōto. A clear sign I went overboard with the tapas last night.

I dreamt today that I could detach and reattach my head from my body, Washington Irving style. It was pretty convenient, really. The deal-breaker was slight bleeding repeatedly causing collar stains and excessive need for doing laundry. Funnily enough I almost never wear collared shirts in real life.

Also, for the first time in I can't remember I woke up in light sleep, so I don't feel like a car hit me before I even got out of bed.

There it is again. The bad kind of nothing.