I swear June Gloom makes me feel like I am living on the set of La Jetee and waiting for impending apocalypse. I'm going to go buy several containers of water on my way home from work.

Dream: I am driving around Montreal in a green convertible. It is tiny and I can weave in and out of lanes at quick speeds. This is actually how I drive my car most of the time. I wish I knew how to drive stick shift. In the dream, I intuitively understand how to drive manual, and when I wake up, I am sad at the sudden loss of this skill.

Then: the Pope is retiring and decides to annoint my friend Wendy as the new Pope. She is curled up in a foetal position on my bed. "I don't want to be the new Pope," she says.

"Maybe it's destiny," I say.

"Fuck destiny. I want my own life," she complains.

"Destiny isn't like that. It's forsaking your personal will for the larger collective," I say. I don't even know if I believe this in its entirety.

"Fuck the larger collective," she says. And proceeds to nap on my bed while I read a book.