2008-02-10 - 9:14 p.m.

I fell asleep after a day of thinking about genre fiction and tutoring, so it makes sense that I dreamt of being a sassy, wealthy Victorian lady speaking to a 4-year-old boy:

"How do you make yourself cry?"

"Well, I don't know if you'll understand this but it's the only way I know how to say it. You have to feel sorry for yourself. Think about all the times people have wronged you. Or you can think about your friends and family and imagine all the worst kinds of things that could happen to them. And then maybe you could think of death, and the fact that we're all going to die someday and nobody knows for sure what happens to us afterwards."

"Or you could smear shit on the walls and when your governess beats you up you cry."

"... Well, yes, that too."

Um, then I dreamt I was lured into an underwater sewer to go meet two hotel maids and give them abortions (because I was THAT kind of sassy Victorian lady) and they cheerfully said they were going to eat me. But don't worry, I handled it like a lady.