He makes me so happy. I get lost in these dreams talking with him, and I'm dead serious about accomplishing them.

Of commie yurt communities!

There's no reason we couldn't get a yurt and a bit of land in Maine, or North Carolina, or South Carolina. We can do it. And we will. I'm serious. I'm twenty. If I work for a few years I could make the ten grand for the 30 foot yurt. I could make enough to get a small piece of land in the middle of nowhere, where we could have a veggie garden and a river to fish on, and our yurt with claw-footed tubs, no TV but internet (really fast internet). I can build shit myself. I want to dig my well. I want running water, but I want my well too. I like the idea of it. I like the idea of Dexter and I taking long walks in the woods and holding each other in our hella slow life in the middle of nowhere. We'll be communists and our closest neighboor will be 30 miles away and he'll be the only other member of our commie yurt community. I don't like dogs, but in my yurt I want two dogs. They can run, faster than any dogs have run before. They can chase each other and go swimming in the river and jump in with me on hot summer days. They will be the fastest dogs that have ever lived. They will be glorious in their stealth, their agility, their fucking style! And Dexter and I will be there with them. Forever. Ever. For ever. There is NO reason this could not be my reality. Maybe I'll get a job for a few years while I finish college and mke enough for the yurt and the land. We won't need much income after that. I figure D and I can do some internet business after that. I can do math over the computer, and he can do his marvelous graphic design. It will be brilliant. We'll live humbly, but not meagerly. We'll be conscious of everything. Of the river next to us, and the migrating butterflies. And the dogs running faster than any dog has ever run before. Faster than the speed of sound, light, air, fucking everything. Fucking fast. And in the winter it will snow, and we'll get stuck inside and we'll make trouble together from inside our yurt. We'll hide and we'll have a fireplace, and we'll have a pot for tea in our fire. And we'll always be steaming milk with vanilla.

I dream.

Of a yurt.

With a boy in it (two of them, two hot ones who like to get it on all the time). And we'll have kids. Maybe. We'll have dogs, fast ones. We'll have a claw footed tub, and a fireplace. And we'll have neighboors 30 miles away. And a river where we can catch our dinner some nights. And a vegetable garden where we can have dinner every night! And we'll eat on the floor on matts with our hands and with chopsticks. We'll have a huge library with all kinds of rare, signed, old books. We'll have those really strange Rudyard Kipling books we saw in Portland with the swastika on the side. We'll hate the swastika, but we'll have the books. And we'll love everyone. And we won't be hippies, but just be happy. And our skylight will always be clean (our yurt will have a marvelous skylight) so we can always see the stars at night and sit inside (in the loft that I'll build in the yurt, maybe) and wish upon shooting stars. And I'll have a telescope outside to look at Venus with. And the shooting stars... I'll always wish the same dream. But it will already have come true. I will be living it. My dream. Our dream.