Woke from a dream in which I'd written a profile of Russell Crowe for Rolling Stone
There was a formatting issue and they needed me to resend the piece and I couldn't find it.
I was living with Taika Waititi and came home to go through my laptop, only to find he had friends over.
They were watching TV loudly and I needed quiet to look through my files in a panic.
Embarrassingly I started yelling at everyone.
Taika kept his cool, but his friends began chastising me.
I think my subconscious is telling me not to apply for the feature-writing mentorship that I saw yesterday.
