I wonder why dreams always end up in my elementary school playground. The front yard? someone’s homeland that the scarlet nuns set on fire. The gym and its small mysterious storerooms? the chapel that we infiltrated (and managed to reunite the lovers). Maybe it saves on unreal estate.
I also remember flying, against my will, in a giant rooster that was being eaten by a snake. And flying over a village and calling in help using someone’s true name. I wish I could find out how it ended.
