last night I had the most curious of dreams:
I was the owner of a pair of red tights. Not super-hero tights, but the regular-kind. Woollen perhaps, but plain and patterenless. The red was of a bright hue – not quite fire-engine, but bright all the same.
I proudly wore these tights in my dream, without pants or short or skirts ontop with a variety of outfits on my torsoe and my regular shoes. I attended various public occasions in these same tights. In the dream, I was perfectly happy wearing my tights, even though I distinctly remember eliciting stares from those around me. At the same time, I felt something, a little someone in the back of my mind letting me know that there was something odd about these tights.
I wonder now: why in my dream was I never without them? Were they cursed and I could not remove them? What is the significance of them? What does it all mean?
I! Must! Know! (Or not, it doesn’t really matter so much now in the light of some good sushi).