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Got a short nap. Dreamed terrible things -- namely, on about the 5th of the month, the bus pass that I'd gotten at $PHARMACY had gotten bent, too bent to use, and the small problem I'd had at the pharmacy (that my records had gotten mixed in with the records of some boyfriend or other or something, someone who I was to be matched up with but I didn't know) turned into an accusation of bus pass forgery, and that the kindly, grandfatherly old bus driver was The Devil.

Then I was in a section of "the mall" (imagine Beta Colony with windows?) which had computer labs. (Actually, it reminded me of the layout of airport terminals.) And I was trying to sign in, and there was my (new?) boyfriend, and there was some complexity with me having two boyfriends (both appointed, or some such thing) as well as my current girlfriend, and I was trying to log in to the computer (the password was LordPratchett on my user account, which has never been and will never be a password of mine) and my boyfriend was hugging me tightly from behind, and then there was a party (in the RPG sense, not the festive sense) involving good ol' Shawn, and I wanted the party to rescue me from the boyfriend...

I remember snuggling up to the boyfriend, heat-seeking, hug-seeking. I'm OK with doing that if I'm actually in love, but I wasn't, and it sickened me. Hell, I'm fine with doing that when I'm actually close friends and I enjoy their energy and their hugs. And that wasn't the case. I had no liking for them, I was just emptily snuggling. Euchhhh. I was trying to articulate this to Shawn without communicating it to the boyfriend, but I wasn't getting through. (And I wasn't logging in, either.)
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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