Let’s talk of dreams.

Tonight, after waking up and reclining into sleep again, this… masterful mess.

Let’s see… I was at Snoop Dogg’s house. Which was old, wooden, and in the country somewhere.

Daughter was there and playing with.. .something. Had to hide it under the bed downstairs, which was… odd. Downstairs was old, like that you’d find in a musty ’70s sort of house. Wooden rickey stairs, which you then made a 180 turn after and continued through the rest of the basement… bed right there. Large open room after that. Some other people around. Snoop fell asleep down there, stuff happened, then we went for a drive. Ended up filling up with ‘petrol’ at some country garage, which happened to be like ethanol, from what I could tell. Took a tank out of the back of the car, guy hooked a hose from it into the hose from a special tank, and it filled. Put it back in the car.

Then cops came looking for me. Well, I knew it was me, though they didn’t say. They were looking for a blue car, and for some reason, I knew that I had one. Then, “Look!” followed by pointing, and there it was, in the field out back – a baby blue VW Jetta.

And I woke up.

Maybe this is why it seems I try to forget them.

(I hope Snoop’s okay)