I am walking after hours through some kind of darkened Disneyland. There is a dark empty castle and a silent and shuttered haunted house. G has gone on ahead of me somewhere. I bound gracefully across a fake stream on some plastic rocks. I arrive at a small concession stand. A short, plump homeless woman insists that I buy her a lighter. I find the last clear green one in a wicker basket on the counter. The total comes to $5.52. I start to pay, but then think, wait a minute, "I refuse!"
Rowdy’s Dream Blog #244: I Refuse To Buy Her A Lighter.
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