nocturnal delusions

i’ve been spending a lot of time lately thinking about vacations. i have three weeks off work at the end of june and there’s a part of me which would really like to take some of that time and go somewhere i’ve never been. i went to ontario for the family gathering last summer, but other than that, i haven’t gone anywhere in what feels like a really long time (my last trip was to minnesota in 2004). i’ve toyed with the idea of paris, but the costs associated with that are prohibitive at this time. then i thought about vegas, but christopher wouldn’t go there with me and i can’t really think of anyone i’d rather go with my first time; nor would i want to go alone. all this trip-thinking, and the constant reminding myself that i have to get up at 3am saturday morning to drive my dad to the airport for his carribean cruise, must be what caused my dream last night…
suddenly, i was on an alaskan cruise with my friend karen. we were on the ship, in our room and on our way. then, of course, it got weird. i started to see gross bugs and creatures in our room, but not before i read the note left for me describing where to find the cheapest beer on-board. as i was preparing to disembark at the first port of call, i realized that in my haste to get on this trip i’d forgotten to pack a lot of essentials. mostly toiletries, camera and film. i’d only taken christopher’s pearl river and one roll of 120 film. i panicked! i ran all over that little town looking for a shop which could sell me film. finally, i found myself in a curious little shop. run by a little old woman up front selling normal corner store wares and a tall, distinguished older british man in the back, running what looked to be a camera shop. my luck! he had a small supply of strange 120 film (ever hear of kodak asa 310?), which i spent a good deal of time trying to suss out my purchase of.
while i was leaning on the counter, trying to decide how many rolls of which kind i wanted (and could afford), the store suddenly became swarmed with customers up front. the british fellow came up behind me, put his hand on my left hip and pressed his lips to my ear and breathed: “you’re not the kind of girl who travels from west to east”.
stupid dreams.