Tuesday, May 8, 2007

I had the fire kindling dream again. The one where either Graham or myself sets a match to the kindling on a hearth, bringing fire to a house that’d sat cold and forlorn for a while.

Not a great while, for it wasn’t dilapidated. Just cold.

And, later, whether in the same dream or some other dalliance I do not know, I dreamt we were enjoying hot buttered scones fresh from the gradell, washed down with fresh-brewed tea from an iron kettle.

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