8 030. Under the Rain

My dreams where wild and vivid that night. Feverish they came and went, intertwining into each other. The people where thick with words, the furniture where thick with words, even the walls had words scribbled all over them and the spaces in between were bursting with words. A constant stream of words was flowing in the back of my mind as the dreams carried me forward, meeting old friends and new telling me stories, showing me pieces of the past. I could barely breathe, that thick was the air with words. Untangling it all today would be hard. Somethings are better left to stay mysteries.