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Bit of an odd interaction in my dreams last night; psycho-analysed by none other than John Cleese. We walked, I talked and he listened. Things I already knew, like, not properly grieving for my father, an interesting view of my mother’s life, after dad was gone, and the big question of why I don’t want to return to the UK.

An odd intro to this moment actually, came from me getting angry about a thrown out saucepan. I think the relation, is that I often take the little things in life, too seriously.

Anyway, cheers John. You reminded me of what I already knew, but often choose to forget.

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