A night at the museum

Saturday, June 09, 2012

It is Saturday night and I am at uni trying to write up one last essay that is due on Monday. How sad. I have tried to write it at home for the past two nights, but instead of using my time up wisely I kept finding myself wasting time on various blogs looking at beautiful pictures and listening to funky music and reading up book and news excerpts. Now the due date is approaching, on which day I am also due to catch a flight down to see my parents for a week - so exciting! - I decided to drag myself to uni to write in the quiet. At least I am not the only one here. It is exams time at the moment and so plenty of fellow students are keeping their head down in stress cram mode. Even on a weekend night. Only 1200 more words to go...

Last night I dreamt of an impressive museum in white marble blocks. It seemed like those hotels, actually. In the rectangular courtyard the vines climbed the surrounding walls. On one corner was a large Egyptian animal figure holding an urn of water, with the fall from its shoulder to the well in its feet. In my dreams this was a mourning place of the death of both Michael Jackson and Elvis Presley, the two great musician kings. Weird. It was night and there was no light, so I was having trouble seeing. I don't think I was wearing my glasses. Thankfully the night wasn't chilly. It must have been late spring or early summer. At one point an official looking car was chauffeured into the courtyard through the big black iron gates. Some important person was guided into the safety of the building, cloaked in the still quiet darkness, save for their quick feet. As the high entrance doors were closing another side door opened on the left hand side. An elderly butler waved me inside and hurried me into a room through a glass set of doors. A classic styled sitting room, unlit but still warm from the dying heat of the evening party...

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