Dream Journal
I came across B’s blog. I didn’t know that he had a blog, but someone pointed it out to me. It was very spartan with a white background. His posts were short and nearly incoherent, but one talked about his seeing a Dahlia in Fairbanks. I recognized the name Dahlia, and after a bit realized that she was a prostitute in Fairbanks.
I was then talking to my father on the telephone, and I asked him about Dahlia. He told me that he had gotten Dahlia as a present for B. I was so angry with him to be interfering, and I told him that he had no right to do something like that.