Daffodil was the princess of her own sleep, dreaming beautiful dreams. Her breathing was slow and steady like the ticking of a clock in a castle. She was dreaming a luxurious dream about Seoul. A warm September rain was falling in her dream. The rain was halfway between a mist and fine droplets. She had deliberately left her umbrella at home. She wanted to feel the rain touching her. She deliciously wanted to get slightly wet and this was what was happening and it made her feel very good If one had bent very quietly over her sleeping form until they got very close to her, they would have smelled a warm feminine delicately humid perfume drifting upward from her body that dreamed of walking through falling rain in Seoul. Then one would have been tempted to reach down with their hand to see if there were tiny droplets of September rain on her hair like diamonds of friendly electricity. Cotton soft, needle fine... Raining in dream. ----------------------------------------- Mountain is mountain, water is water. --------------------------------------- J jhan@ucsd.edu