Spring seems to be coming to San Francisco. It must be the rain making that's everything green and the early flowers bloom in spite of the awful cold (51 degrees today -- I know, we’re wimps). All this wet is making me nostalgic for New England.

The other night, I was talking in my sleep. I do this from time to time, and my boyfriend, Brian, likes to try and draw hypnogogic conversations out of me, and relay them to me in my waking state. I’m trying to train myself to speak when I feel myself start dreaming - on that threshold between awake and asleep. Its a tiny thing we share.

Anyway, I was talking. And I said two things:

1. "Underneath the branches the people are wet, and made of bark."

And some time later:

2."My legs were twigs, but I didn't realize it at the time."