emerald haunt in overdrive

dream: I’m on a bus, I think. The seats are red vinyl, and somebody accidentally sits on me for a moment as the bus lurches one way or another. I’m listening to some dark, brooding track by The Church on my iPod and it makes me want to write something, about dark, pulsing shapes travelling through the countryside, or thereabouts. The right words won’t quite come to me though, as per usual, and I stare out the window trying to pull a sentence together.