I think wine gives me strange dreams. Or maybe it's just that I tend to wake up a lot on nights when I've had wine, so I remember more of whatever strange dream I'm having. Anyway, I knew I was dreaming last night because I was walking my dead dog Bogart, and he was behaving very well on his leash. But in reality, Bogie usually strained so hard on a leash that he would make these terrible choking-gagging sounds, and I'd regret even attempting to take him for a walk. Also, my high school boyfriend was there. His name was Raphael. No, seriously. I was gaga for him.
I forget that other people's dreams aren't interesting. Sorry.
Voicemail from the Little: "Hi Kate, this is [Little]. I was just calling to say hello. ... Also, I made you a card. Okay. Bye."