I’ve been sleeping hours and hours more than usual this week. At some point my brain just gave up and started throwing the weirdest possible stuff into my dreams. Here is a taste:
- A man drinking a pint of nothing but loose silver glitter with a single chug. Then doing a spit take.
- Going to a rave in an abandoned commercial industrial-sized chicken coop. It was actually a pretty fun party. Part of it was a craft fair.
- Being visited by David Bowie, the ghost of Christmas past, in my own personal vision of Charles Dickens’ a Christmas Carol.
- Inventing an entire lifetime spent fighting a fictitious rival. My rage and ambition to destroy him was only matched by my utter sense defeat when my sister betrayed me to side with him. Somehow his name was not Gary Oak.
- What? Monster attack air raid sirens are not commonplace?
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