Cold?

Does everything mean something?

The night before last, I dreamed that I was walking through a blizzard. It whipped my coat and stung my face and bruised the inside of my ears and blinded me in the whiteness. A loud voice called out in the storm, and asked if I was cold. When I woke up, I found that I had left my window a little open. So I closed it to keep out the cold.

I had a bleeding nose this morning. The blood leaked out of my face and onto my bed. And in my sleep, I had drawn in the small pool a word.

The word was, "Cold"

I stared at it.

Then I got up, washed my face, and ate some food.

Just now, sitting here in hoyts cinema, I see some spilled popcorn or crumbs. In there haphazard way, as spills do, they form a word.

I am choosing to ignore it.