another dream

please keep in mind that this was all just a dream, so it makes the story a little more interesting, especially when you consider how much thought was happening while i was actually still asleep. i was in a hotel in africa, and i picked up a copy of wired magazine. just as i was starting to get bored by the articles, i turn to a story about a small town in bulgaria, which, as it happens, was written by my friend richard cherry. i get so excited by this, that i head down to a cafe, and try to write a quick note to him in my journal. the waiter comes up to me and speaks to me in a language i don't know, and i simply respond with "coffee, please". he seems impressed that i knew what he was saying, and says something else to me in his language and hurries off to get my order. i look down the street, and notice an open air market, with hundreds of people scurrying about getting on with their lives, and i decide that i should go check that out later, but i make the realisation that i should probably leave my wallet back at the hotel, because this looks like the kind of crowd that you can't trust. while continuing to sit there, ignoring the note i had started to write, it all of a sudden it occurs to me that there is a small dog peeing on the leg of my table, and the urine is then splashing on to my leg and shoe. i kick the dog away, and turn back to my note, which has now blown away, and i have no idea where it has gone. i decide that it was a silly idea to have been writing a note to richard in the first place, since i only have his email address, but also understand that writing things down while traveling is a much more romantic way of capturing my thoughts and stories. while scanning the ground surrounding me to try and see if i can recover my wind swept note, i see an old leather bound journal sitting about 3 or 4 meters away from me, and think that perhaps i might go and pick it up, and use that as my new journal. and i would make an honest effort to write more things down, and even try to doodle/sketch. and i think about how neglected my blog has been, and that perhaps i should contribute something to it soon, but i don't feel that i have anything worthwhile, or anything that people would be interested in reading. i realise that if i wrote more, i could be as good as richard some day. then again, maybe not.