I had such a weird dream today.
I went out in my home town like I used to when I still lived there permanently but haven't done in ages. I met a boy called Raphael, fell madly in love with him and took him home with me. He spent the night in my tiny bedroom, and in the morning my dad came in and he had to hide under the blanket. But my dad discovered him, was scandalised and chased him away ... out of the window! I was heartbroken.
Is this a horrific version of an American teen drama, or a nudge from my prophetic unconscious that I should go out in my hometown more often?
Fact is, that when I woke up, I still had that warm and fuzzy feeling that you get from these dreams. It faded fast, and I was reminded of this song:
No matter in how much Morrissey poses with babies in Bob Fossil outfits, just for the sheer amount of excruciating truth he managed to express in his Smiths lyrics, and sometimes later, he will always be somehow sacred.