The Airport

I keep having this dream, sometimes multiple times a night, that I am in an airport. Large glass windows and bright, sunny weather. I’m usually in route to London via, JFK. The dream is vague, fleeting, and the details leave the second I wake up. Sometimes I’m sitting across the aisle from a cute guy. Sometimes I’m on the phone. Sometimes I’m singing (yes in the airport). Nothing I can grasp fully.

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