Not for all North Carolina.

[jacktellslies]

I may have dreamed of it again. We were in the woods again, although woods of a different sort. There were hills and streams. I was with friends (friends of the dream kind that one does not recognize) and I was watching a child, another young blonde thing, although this one was more precocious and less delicate, perhaps slightly older than the one in the last dream. She kept wanting adventures of the sort that are truly dangerous for children. I was not doing a particularly good job of watching her, but was perpetually panicked; her mother would kill me if anything should happen to her. I believed this in a mostly literal sense. My friends all said that she'd be fine, but they were wrong. She wanted to swim in the stream, and I told her no. But we'd walked far, and I wanted to wet my feet. I took off my sandals (I wore sandals, a thing I haven't done since I wore skirts and my hair was long) and lost track of her. It was instantly too dark. She was in the stream, so I followed, but it was not the cool thing I'd been wanting: we'd stumbled into some rich person's yard, and the stream was padded and artificially heated and too deep. We all swam, and it all felt safer but wrong. The colours are always brighter in the important dreams. I notice the texture of light. This one seems easier, but I'm still in the middle of all of this, still thinking.