Weird-Ass Dream
Taking a cue, as I often do, from RoBlog, I'll tell you nice people of a dream I had the other night... in grade 10 my french class went on a trip to France. Last night I dreamed we all went to France again, with our teacher Mme. Plotnikow and everything. I remember Mme Plotnikow yelling at me on the street in front of a large red door. We were going into this large old fancy white stone building with red carpets and high windows, and for some reason we were going to meet the president of France. Who in my dream looked exactly like Yasser Arafat. There was lots of other stuff, that I mostly forget now, involving among other things, my girlfriend Michelle and eating waffles. It felt more coherantly linear at the time. There was a definate colour theme of whites, and reds, and I remember a dark corridor that some of my fellow students and I were going down. For some reason I believe this is right before I went to eat waffles.

I have no idea what it means, if anything.