I still dream, sometimes, that I’m back in Okinawa. I’m forever lost on the narrow, winding streets that seem to have no names and unable to ask for directions. There’s a sense of wrongness that goes beyond driving on the “wrong” side of the street. I’m trying to find places I remember, but can’t seem to get there. When I wake, I am left with a longing to return just to orient myself and sort out the dreamland from the real land.
Maybe Spirited Away was too similar to a nightmare to be enjoyable. (I was certainly horrified when the parents turned into pigs. That is just the sort of thing that happens in a messed up dream.) One of my anime-loving friends has Kiki’s Delivery service for us to watch together and she thinks I’ll like that better.
Sweater, Gibson (thrifted). Leggings, Express. Boots, Blondo. Earrings, Cuffs. Scarf, Canvas boutique. Bag, Steve Madden.
I was a little sleep deprived today after getting home at 2 am and being awoken before 7 am by Jackson. I’m not even sure if I was awake through the entire movie.