Librarian

The library is a nat­ur­al resource. And I real­ly enjoy that pun. I had a dream that I was in a library, and specif­i­cal­ly in a com­put­er room in a library with a bunch of ruckus friends. This com­put­er room was from an Irish movie I saw years ago, and I remem­ber a char­ac­ter watch­ing Frank Pat­ter­son[?] sing at the papal vis­it to Ire­land on the com­put­er. Maybe that did­n’t actu­al­ly hap­pen in the movie and I dreamed it, and remem­bered dream­ing it in this dream. [Update: When Bren­dan Met Trudy, thanks TS!] So this room was not real to me, but real to my expe­ri­ence. In any case we were being loud and an old mean librar­i­an came in and start­ed copy­ing our iden­ti­fi­ca­tion in order to report us to the Depart­ment of Home­land Secu­ri­ty. I grabbed what she was copy­ing of me and dis­cov­ered it was a copy of my social secu­ri­ty card. I refused to give it back to her, say­ing I did­n’t want her to have my social secu­ri­ty num­ber, and she said she’d have me arrest­ed and no one would ever hear from me again. I think I called her a dinosaur and said I hoped she got replaced by an upgrad­ed librar­i­an with pierc­ings and tatts. Then I woke up because my pil­low had fall­en off the bed. I man­aged to grab it before it land­ed on the floor, although I felt very strange because my mind was still most­ly asleep and my body was wide awake thrum­ming.

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