Double Post!

Not that this isn't my fourth (wow I have a lot of time on my hands) post today. But, it's like within minutes of that last one.

I kind of want to make it up to you. Not that there are any of you. Well, somebody has to be reading this. If a blog's words are never read, do they exist?
I don't really have any thought epic enough to make up for even the length of that last post, though.
So, um.
Here's one of my dreams from last night. That counts as a thought, right?

"Barnaby Bombs told me how you stole his television." (This would imply a darkness in our main character- and how could we love him now?) But fear not, dear reader. For record shows there has never been a Barnaby Bombs living in London. But record can lie. Take Barnaby, sitting in the basement in his favorite blue leisure suit. They used to belong to Big Ben. They even had a little badge on his left breast that said "Ask Me the Time!" He loved those robes. Wore them all the time. He was wearing them the day they took him away. He was sitting in his basement and he was wearing his blue robes and they came to take him and he was watching television and they came for him and he was waiting for the right idea and they took him away. (So record lies and the man probably is as well. Even if our dearly beloved main character did steal, he probably did it for some orphans or widows or street urchins. For that is what a main character does.)

What, your dreams don't come with more words than pictures? Or a narrator? Or readers? Huh. Weird.
Well, actually, mine don't usually come with readers. But it's a fifty/fifty chance of words or pictures.