Where All The Cowboys Go

I dreamt I was managing the NBSFI launch, and everything was going well. The trophies on the table gleamed in the hot sun, the air smelled like freshly made popcorn, and the laughter of children rose up and swelled around us like small birds in flight.

I was sitting down, observing my cowboy hat and silver stirrups. I was also wearing a lace top, and dark blue jeans. The lace rubbed against the arm of my companion, whom I was leaning against, but he didn't seem to mind. He had longish hair that curled around the base of his neck. The man also had a cowboy hat over his face, and he was sleeping. The letter "L" was tattooed between his thumb and forefinger, and it looked like it was moving whenever I lifted his hand up to the light. When he woke up, before I could look at his face, a beautiful child, all of 6 or 7, took me and dragged me to the center of the library, where she told me a story about the fisherwoman who seduced a giant fish for her dinner. It was enchanting.