let lemons be angry

Last night was the second time i had a dharma-dream. I was holding on to her so tightly that she got tired of me, and i was saying all the things that can be said: i miss you, i'm so glad you're back, don't leave us again. It was such a realistic dream. But NOTHING is like the real thing.

We competed in the who-can-surprise-who game, but she won hands down. Just her in the flesh, warm real hand to hold, real hair that blows in the wind in the same way, real laughter that echoes everywhere. But then again, why should that surprise me? We are all incredibly in love with dharma. With her around i found us doing silly things again, like warming up our tongues for taboo, singing in the canteen, doing the muppet dance and the flower therapy happy dance, and all the wonderful things i'm supposed to be embarrassed about but never will be. We sat in secret recipe after the taboo smackdown and talked until everyone else had left. She is the kind of person that people just want to gaze at, just in case her aura might be contagious. I kind of understand the way crazed stalkers think now. Their obsession with the object of their affection, namely their de Clerembaut condition, can grow to inhuman proportions, and might result in the chopping off of object's limbs to hold 24/7.

Everyone seems to be falling into the same hammock at the same time. It is the hammock of relaxation. It has instant appeal, it threatens to make you fall soundly asleep when you shouldn't fall asleep, and it's really a net to entrap you. But i just can't bring myself to the same peak of the promos. All the more so now that dharma's here. There are just too many more important things in this world than schoolwork. I have the vague suspicion that i'll regret my words very soon, but oh well. It's a very vague one.