I was dreaming, right before I woke up, that I was at a motel/mini-mall in suburban (near-airport) England that also was hosting two people from my hometown, one an across-the-street neighbor who talked at you for ten minutes straight if you so much as said hello to him, and another the father of a guy I knew from school. In the dream, for some reason, the father neither looked nor acted like the guy I knew, and didn't share the last name of his wife and his son: his kid was a first-class asshole from fourth grade to twelfth, and he came by it honestly. I had to ask how his son was doing, even though I truly could not care less. (Last I heard, he was a cameraman on one of the trashier reality shows.)
Anyway, for some reason, my bicycle showed up at the motel, even though I hadn't brought it with me overseas. I was flying back the next day. For some reason, there was a gallon carton of milk strapped to the back. After I had ridden through the tiered gardens stretching out behind the motel, I parked the bike but didn't secure it. Then, after I had been talking with some other guests, I went to go find it and it was gone. After I woke up, before I wanted to admit it, I kept going back to sleep, frantically trying to locate the bike before I missed my flight as the setting for the dream got smaller and emptier.
I can trace where most of that comes from, which I find to be a pretty rare occurrence for me, actually.
Here's another face/outfit that fascinates me and needs a home. I'm really interested by the stole and the yellow of the dress.( Possibly this is a queen. )