Anxiety dream of the most mundane sort. Receive and read a prompt, bullet-pointed, & vociferously irritable rejection from the modeling agent detailing how I fail to measure up to superficial aesthetic criteria. Characterizes me as a "sloppy fag".
I take all of it to heart-- of course, because they're autocritiques originating in my neurotic psyche. Waking, none of it has impact. Perhaps I was preparing myself...?
Reading in a dream isn't something that happens often. Particularly where the characters are clearly legible. Most of the time in my dreams the visualizations of language are garbled or arcane. But here the text was perfectly clear. I find that more notable than the dream itself, which was basic & self-absorbed.
Notable also how many of my recent dreams have been about books or orientated around libraries, yet there hasn't been any reading in those dreams. Further evidence of being all up in my id and not In The World...
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