My friend and co-worker Aimee apparently had a dream that I was a heroin addict, and was chasing her around trying to jab her with giant syringes as she pleaded for me to give up the junk, for the sake of my children.
It kind of makes me wonder if other people dream about me, and what about.
I've lately been trying to start keeping a dream journal, but between a tendency to sleep in, and sheer laziness, it's been slow going. I did get one down though. The other night I dreamt that I had bought a big fuck-off black pick up truck, that got stolen when I decided to leave the keys in it while I slept on the big grassy hill in Rotary Park (I think that's the one... the big huge one on Bayshore drive). I woke up to one of the guys that used to work at the Tat Shack telling me my truck had been stolen.
So I went to a sporting good store and asked my sister if she had seen my truck. She said no, and asked me what the make and model was. I stood there, perplexed, because all I could answer was "Um... it's shiny, black and really big". Nicky berates me for buying a truck and not even knowing what kind I bought.
So I decide to go to the cop shop, where one of the ladies from the co-op board takes my report. The cop shop is apparently now located in the lounge above the YMCA pool. She also gives me a hard time about not knowing what kind of truck I drive, as well as for leaving it unlocked with the keys in it. I tell her that I didn't want to leave it LOCKED with the keys in it.