Some river/swimming hole

Tapping my fingers, looking around.
What do I write about today?

I made enough coffee for my brother, but he isn't here.
He had a late night, discovering his girlfriend is bulemic.
She has a very mean father.

I've decided to keep a journal of my dreams.
I will not apologize for this.
I don't want to go through 2/3 of my life not knowing anything about the other 1/3.

So I got up this morning and went into the bathroom, looking very much forward to being done with brushing my teeth so I could go downstairs and have the coffee maker make me some coffee to drink.
And I turned on the faucet, grabbed my toothbrush, and then remembered.

And it was a very long dream it turns out.
It took the entire front and back of a piece of college ruled notebook paper, to get it out.
And that was just key points.
So, I had to wait 20 minutes extra for my coffee.
But I did realize that I have a recurring location in my dreams.
Some river/swimming hole.

Anyway, how bad can it be to write for 20 minutes in the morning, before even brushing your teeth.
Uh, besides the taste in your mouth.

While I'm thinking about it...
Toni, it's not a bad thing to always be talking about the same things.
As long as there is progress on the topics, which there is, it's all good.