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I’ve been awake for about an hour. Perhaps less. It’s around 3:30 a.m. on Tuesday the 7th of May. Went to bed early, before 9 p.m., because I’m managing a cold which Leah graciously gave me. I woke because my brain became way too loud, full of racing thoughts from a dream.

In short, I received an email from Willie Nelson out of the blue saying how he’s happy to give me $40,000 in the hopes I’ll use it to advocate for recreational marijuana. In the dream I had a thought in that direction but those oneiric memories are far too foggy and indistinct.

The rest of the dream was, “Oh shit, is Leah going to see this?” Mainly because Leah would want to spend it all on herself, practical things, and basically betray Willie’s trust. I’m no saint because I too had Leah-like thoughts of, “Well some things need to be taken care of, but the lion’s share will go towards advocacy” followed by mental yells of, “Don’t you fucking dare.” I remember reviewing Willie’s email wondering if this was all a hallucination, even making slow and tedious spelling and grammar corrections to his message in hopes of proving this windfall to be a misunderstanding. What would Willie want with me? How did he get this idea? Did I contact him? I don’t want to betray his trust since he was honest enough to pay back the IRS, and that’s huge.

Eventually the dream became conscious thoughts. Loud, conscious thoughts, and I was tossing and turning trying to get comfortable again, hoping to feel sleep’s embrace before sunrise.

Right now the bedroom is uncomfortable, feels stuffy despite the open windows, but the prospect of moving to the couch isn’t appealing despite the allure of cats coming along to sleep on me, protect my thoughts, and calm my spirit.

Chris S.
Anomalist, esperantist, cyclist, typist, dodecaphile, ailurophile, and oneiromancer. Chris lives near the shore with his wife, cats, and the Jersey Devil in his backyard.

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