Laundry Room, Sunday night

[laidanegg.livejournal.com]

Dick woke up. The realization that his dream wasn't a dream? The lighthouse? The horrible, horrible death by leaping out of said lighthouse? "It was all just a dream!" Dick said, happily.

He sat up, taking a moment to realize that he was in the laundry room in the dorms. This may have been the weirdest place he remembered waking up this weekend, but all of those other places were in dreams, so they didn't count anyway.

Then he heard something weird.

La donna è mobile
Qual piuma al vento,
Muta d'accento — e di pensiero.

Dick looked around. He could swear that the singing was coming from the laundry detergent. He got up and started walking toward the door when he heard a continuation of the song coming from the liquid soap by the sink.

Sempre un amabile,
Leggiadro viso,
In pianto o in riso, — è menzognero.

Dick wasted no time walking out the door. He needed to get to his room. Although he'd apparently spent the entire weekend sleeping, he felt extremely worn out and wanted to sleep in his own bed tonight.

[OOC: La donna è mobile. Ba dum ching.]