So I had a dream that the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom was visiting the Philippines. Nope, it wasn't David Cameron. Or Hugh Grant. For some reason, I was the one escorting and driving him around. I kept apologizing for the heat and humidity as if it was my fault. (If that's not British, I don't know what is.) I turned on a fan until my sister suggested we turn on the air conditioner. Genius! Why didn't I think of that? Then we were in New York's Grand Central Terminal. And that's where I lost him. Or more accurately, that's when I woke up.
