Last night I had a dream there were some girls hanging out in my apartment and there was some hair color fest seeming to be occurring in my living room. The colors of dye came in little packets with a sort of silicone spout in the tip. I didn’t seem to be partaking, but I was trying to clean up after it to make sure dye didn’t get all over the floor or carpet. A Dir en grey song, “Ain’t Afraid to Die” (oh wait, I just got the pun—Ain’t afraid to DYE. Ha.) was playing on the television and there were karaoke subtitles with the bouncing ball over the syllables, but I was the only one who knew the song and notes to sing. Also, the song started to lapse into Japanified English words, like “ringu ovu saturun.”
I started having a conversation in my head with an Australian person who seemed to want to hide that he was Australian, preferring to speak as British as possible, but he was making it difficult for me to take him seriously.
There was something about a purple bit of dye and there was a girl who had a kerchief that had “purple crew” painted on it in gold letters, but she was missing. We weren’t sure where she went, but it didn’t seem like a big deal.
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