Dreamed of fixing an apparatus that produced blood; returning later to find that it had spilled out over the floor, causing a big mess; meeting a group of ghosts in front of my Cape Breton aunt's home; trying to ask them questions.
On second thought, I do have a New Year's resolution: to read a Graham Greene novel.
Went to the store and got some No-Name noodles. I found them in shrimp flavour for the first time in years! [I've got out of the habit of eating them recently.]
Dinner was spaghetti.
Saw Clint Eastwood's Mystic River at the Mount Pleasant. It was a grim murder drama, bluntly powerful, with bravura performances and suitably stark photography by Tom Stern. It was set in Boston and had a superb sense of place. (I liked the Boston accents.) I'll have to see it again someday. It's a triumph. [Another movie with good Boston accents is Robert Mitchum's The Friends of Eddie Coyle.]
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