Fairly often I'll have recurring dreams of sorts. Sort of like, "Hey! I've had this dream before! Such and such should be happening next!" At which point, of course, the dream changes entirely, usually into some sort of nightmare.
To make up for it, though, I've had several strange, elaborate dreams I've remembered for years afterward. My mother thinks many of them hilarious and encourages me to write them down, but ehhh, I'm just to lazy or something. Instead I repeat them to myself every once in a while so I don't forget them.
If I ever wrote a book, it would be in a first person conversational style, like Sunshine or Prep, because anything more formal wouldn't, I think, flow as smoothly.
All we have in the house is soy milk. Now, I like soy milk, but it's not nearly as satisfying as cow's milk. Very tasty in its own right, however, and I'm glad we have it. I was going to feel guilty about drinking most of the half-gallon of it (pretty much all I've had all day), but, really, it's been sitting unopened in the fridge for at least a month and if my father really cared he'd have opened it by now.
I think I'll go have some more...
Listening to: Savage Garden, SOAD