Dreaming

I am looking in the mirror; my skin is really clear. I have sunglasses on and push them onto my head, over my hair. Greg comes in with a man from work and puts some cards on the side; one is addressed to me and says ‘Open Monday’. It has silly love poems on the front of the envelope; I don’t want it. There is a card there for Amelia from the man. It says, ‘Thank you for sitting in the front of the van with me.’ I am disturbed and worried by this.