I hate it when suspicions are confirmed. Even when they are so obvious that they should be conclusions.

I also hate dreams that are so perfect, they leave me wishing I could sleep the rest of my life. That's easier to deal with. The feelings of losing the perfect life to waking are fleeting. But knowing the truth of your suspicions is weirder.

Plus dreams are never solid. Like this perfect life from last night. Was just a generalization. An impression of a perfect life. All I know is it was urban and perfectly mismatched.

I've been having an inordinate amount of pregnant dreams lately (not last night, though).