All day, sidetracked with the idea of shutting up like a telescope and I couldn't figure out why. It was only awhile later that I realized that it had come from Alice in Wonderland. I'd probably save myself an awful lot of trouble if I just assumed that all random thoughts that seem vaguely familiar can be traced back to Alice.
Last night I had a curious dream about a boy whom I don't talk with very much at all anymore. In the dream we ran into each other at an art museum and he told me about a class he was taking on cemeteries. A cemetery class! I exclaimed, and then sighed forlornly, wondering how I ever let him get away.
Not that that's exactly how it went, of course, but that's beside the point. What is more to the point is the strange way that something entirely fictional can dredge up entirely nonfictional feelings and emotions. Not that it's anything serious; I suppose it just makes me wonder if such feelings are ever finished, final, or if perhaps they simply hibernate, waiting patiently to be triggered, coaxed out of their hiding places.