(From May 30, 2013)
My hands are puffed up and look like coral (as in reef). I pick a scab between my thumb and forefinger, and am told (by whom?) to leave my hands alone and let them heal.
I’m wearing a strap dress, down to my feet, and am with a group of people (watching a movie?). At the end of the event, an older man mistakes me for someone else asking me to drive him home (I respond that I don’t know him).
I’m at Johnathon Scott‘s family home watching a remodeling show with him. It is around 11 p.m. A part of his house has storage containers stacked up taking up space. I made a comment, to my self, or out loud?, about wanting to reorganize them. I see it’s 11:45, past time I said I would go. I see one of his brothers tackling them, and I half jokingly comment that I wanted to work on that project.