I’m crossing a line where it was less of my life

than this part

Last night I dreamed I went to Heathrow again. Well, not last night. That’s artistic license. But I have been having recurring dreams of it, the airport. The landscape each time is different but the narrative of each dream is the same: I’m trying to get there by some kind of ground transportation that doesn’t work very well. Or else I get to the termina…