Plaid.

I had another dream 2 nights ago. One of those ones that I like.

I had moved to India. I was outside and it was warm. My hair was pulled up on my head, but part of it fell out onto the back of my neck. I was sticky with sweat. Wearing a white v-neck tee shirt and a pair of jeans rolled up past my ankles. Henna was on my hands. I was putting boxes of books into the back of a dirty brown jeep. Each box was labeled with what books were inside. There was pictures painted too. I was taking those with me. Huge pictures to hang.
A man I knew drove up. I don't know how I knew him. He was British and blonde. Wore a baby blue button up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and jeans too. He had sandals on. He was riding a Ducati. His name was Benjamin. We greeted each other cheerily and he helped me load up the books.
There was over 1,000 books.
We drove to a little village 30 minutes away. Him on his bike, me in the jeep. The sun was still high when we got there, but it took us 4 hours to unload everything into the library, and really only half of it got unpacked. I realized that I had started that library. It was brick. With wooden rafters inside. And oak shelves. Afterwards, Benjamin gave the Indian children rides on his Ducati. I read a little girl the story of Babar and braided her hair. The sun sank low and it was dark. When all the children had gone home to their parents in the village, Benjamin and I sat on a mattress in the library and I wrote by the light of a lantern while he drew pictures. We talked about architecture, The Little Prince, maybe building a school onto the library, teapots, England, living conditions, languages, and the next shipment of books.
Benjamin had a branch tattooed onto his left foot. On the instep. I knew why but I couldn't remember.
When it was so dark out that you couldn't even see your hand in front of your face, we drove back to the city. Benjamin put a plaid shirt on over his button up, and I pulled a knitted blanket over my shoulders in the jeep. We tossed the Ducati in the back of the jeep and went together. He drove. I knew tomorrow we would be packing up more books into crates, and that Benjamin would be bringing more paintings to me. He was the painter. I remembered that now.

Then I woke up.