he says he likes my stories. i wonder if he will still meet me in my dreams tonight. i am wearing something special tonight. it is not new but still it is special to me. my coffee cup has barley in it and the seeds are growing. my snails are still remembered. sluggish as they are, they were still where i belonged. i seem to have forgotten some things. i keep losing my scarves. one has prints of lovely white tulips on it with black rimms. i fear that goblin has stolen it. behind my back i hear it laugh as i stumble over and over upon his pranks. it seems quite pleased with itself as it makes a mockery of me. i lavish the thought when i can be one with my tulips again. it was my favourite one. tiny sparks are flying around me in circles as i think about this. i am getting little jolts of electricity as i move my feet on the furry floors. static.