Morning.

Well, 16 past one in the afternoon, actually, but I woke up quite recently, and am writing this in the borrowed shirt I slept in... so, morning.
I've started to remember my dreams again, a very good thing, if only I could write them down in time. Beautifully nonsensical, it's what my subconscious is throwing at me, so I have to try to find some obscure meaning in it. No guarantees my translation will be right, though.
Also, Tom Waits. TomwaitsTomwAitstomWaits. His voice is a pleasant one to hear unexpectadely in the first song you hear coming from the radio. Like this.

(Tom Waits - "Talking at the same time")

Look, you even got a nice full moon to go with that. Like the one I got yesterday. Only the sky wasn't pink. Huh.
It's like running across that little bumpy lawn with the confused girl at night to get to the music in the little hut after tying pine needles to the pink\red strings across the other room, which you weren't actually supposed to do, because the elongated notes were there already. Now, inside the hut the music is very nice, the few people with guitars and voices, but the only other ones there are the kids who are being judges of the music, at a tiny wooden table, so what else can you do but pick your own tiny chair and do the same. And then wake up from the phone call, realizing you've slept too late.
Now, which of you geniuses can make sense of the only part of my dream I can remember (the end) ?