More weird dreams about people I know.

This one involved going to Williamsburg to kill time before picking keshwyn up at the airport. Including conversations with teinedreugan along the lines of, "Okay, if the plane gets in at nine, when do we have to leave?"

There was a great deal of questing for ice cream, possibly related to the fact that I ate a half-pint of Tosci's cinnamon ice cream yesterday. We wound up with miscellaneous people sitting around at a place where they'll make ice cream up according to a selection of boxes on the menu while you wait (I forgot to ask for strawberries). Then we asked suzimoses if she wanted to come with us to Chincoteague to quest for the M&M ice cream at one of the ice cream joints there, and I got a thing of ice cream before noticing we were there, and had to get another bowl of ice cream to get the M&M ice cream I wanted. (But teinedreugan said we could.)

Then we went and sat in the back at a booth where I had to climb under the table and then up the wall to get onto the bench, and listened to oneironaut and my cousin discuss their hair. (This included the exchange, "My hair is horribly oily." "So is mine. That's why it stinks!") The people two tables down asked us for their nine-year-old, I'm guessing because we had people of a similar skin tint with us, but we hadn't seen any such; while we were in the middle of explaining that she wandered around the corner and stared at us all quizzically.

(I'm writing this down here to remember it, because I keep forgetting to bring the book I got for writing dreams down in up to sit by the bed where I can write them down, and also because I thought I'd share.)

I was going to write something light and fluffy.

I was going to be light and fluffy and talk about my studies of yoghurt. (I am not from a yoghurt-consuming culture, haw haw.)

Then I caught up on the Straight Dope Message Board, on a thread about trying to find ways to look after queer teenagers in the schools, because being a teenager in the schools is rough enough even when one's not queer.

One of the people who drifted through that thread is apparently a youth counsellor for queer issues. (I'm a little fuzzy on the personalities; I'm so godawful with connecting up names to much of anything.)

One of her kids came out to his parents recently. His hard-core fundie parents.

They said that they had no son.

Now they don't.

I am so . . . so . . . so terribly . . .

. . . .