The ghost in you

Today has been coloured with a kind of contented melancholy which lingers from a dream I had last night. It is also tinged with something similar from the Psychedelic Furs album I have been playing over and over, since I bought it in the week. It is a reassuring sensation; in the dream I was in Glasgow at night. As far as the music is concerned, I cannot remember what I was doing when I used to listen to it all those years ago, but whatever it was, I must have liked it. Dying, I imagine, must be easier, when you are accompanied by this feeling.