Goddamed Lack of Bell

[eredien]

Dreamed again of Bryn Mawr. It was Hell Week: a blindfolded transfer student dropped a half-empty carton of milk into my hand and her heller, guarding the door to Thomas for the annual donor banquet, chuckled. The pavement was all chalked with runes. The lion with the lantern, in 3/4 relief along the side door to the cloisters, smiled at me, as he did anyone else who passed that door, his stone mane carved roiling wild about his head.

Dear God, shouldn't this have stopped by now? Am I doomed to dream of this occasionally, unpredictably, forever, and in such detail, for part of my inscape? It hurts!

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[eredien]

But there was no pain or fear. It was wonderful. Delightful and perfect and felt more right than anywhere I've been before or since. That's the problem.

[orawnzva.livejournal.com]

As I said to fiddledragon at a moment when it was what needed to be said:

You can take the [you] out of the Bryn Mawr, but you can't take the Bryn Mawr out of the [you].