creek beach

Vivid dreams last night, but all I remember clearly now is that our class had a week-long trip to Cyprus that turned out to be optional, and because I had missed the plane already (it was just after 3PM and it had departed at 2) I had an extra week to work on my project and visit stuff in Barcelona, along with the other people who stayed. Incongruously, the surroundings were more like Hancock than Barcelona — I was at the kitchen table at home when I realized about missing the plane. Any regret of missing the trip that I had was removed upon hearing that the return would take about 3 days of flights, thereby obliterating the amount of time actually spent in Cyprus. At some point after that, I was at a beach that was sort of like the estuary of a creek walled in by buildings a small distance from each bank, with the creek emptying into the sea to the south and the sun coming in from the southeast. There, there were a lot of seagulls and maybe fish, and James Brown, who looked more like Michael Steele, was there as well, plus some other people, and I almost got in a half-joking but half-actually-violent-with-him-wielding-a-knife-and-sharp-seashell fight with him over his abuse of the seagulls. I think a similar almost-fight also happened back at the house, until we carefully reconciled. Strange.

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