Last night I was carrying a stack of bumblebees which I had, in an ingenious way, crocheted into my sweater. Then I had trouble disentangling them from the same when I was about to release them into the forest. How does my boring mind ever come up with these storylines in my dreams?
That it was a "stack" was significant somehow - my mind puts words on things and probably only then visualizes them. Intriguing. I should donate my brain to research.
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