The key lime pie slid down by throat as I sat in the chantreuse forest. Nibbling on an olive. Staring at the sea. Had my teal shirt been gathering moss? Yes, I was in the emerald city, having wicked thoughts and searching for a sage to answer my question-WTF? Had my imagination lost its steam. My husband said I was talking in my sleep? What secrets had I revealed? That pain in my side, woke me up. I refused to get up to pee. Can’t afford to break my rems. This stream of consciousness writing is wearing me out. Words are coagulating. Sentences are failing. Where is grammerly when I need her? Oh God-what are they going to say about this mish mash. Oh well, I can make up for it next Monday.