DREAMS

~ Eric Brightwell

This morning, I dreamt about eating. Those that know anything about me know that there is only one time I’m not hungry, and that’s the 30 minutes following a couple of hours at a buffet table. I don’t remember anything about what I was eating but it’s making my mouth water just thinking about it. When I woke up, I had a big, delicious mouthful of blanket in my maw.
I also had that song, “Magic” by Scotland‘s soft rock wonder of the 70s, Pilot, in my head.

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Published by Eric Brightwell

Eric Brightwell is an essayist, rambler, explorer, cartographer, and guerrilla gardener. He lives in Los Angeles, not because he was born here, but because he chose to... for all of the things for which its famous: its verticality, its mass transit, its diversity, its schools, its liminal spaces, its architecture, its wildlife, its museums, its night markets, its cinemas, its theaters, its enclaves, its restaurants, its bars, its libraries, &c

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