Sometimes dreams can be seemingly full of portent, dark and unsettling, others they can appear utterly banal. Last night he and I talked about felt pens. He was in favour of them. I wasn’t sure. Though I did wake from the dream looking forward to using one that I know I have in my drawer. It all came from a drawing I’d made yesterday afternoon. The pen had been wrong, inappropriate. My subconscious was clearly trying to work this through.
