Really, honest, this thing is not meant to be a dreamlog (a ‘mlog’ instead of a ‘blog’?) but again, this one is relavant. In it my brother found behind my bed in the room we shared open dub bags of crack and even bags of bags that I’d hazily let fall down between the wall and the mattress during those times when I was smoking around the clock.

The upsetting thing was that this time—after the dream in which, for the groundbreaking first time, I turned around mid-mission to buy—I was going to smoke it. The dream didn’t make it to that point but the intention was there.

I also dreamed, in a separate episode, that my mother was confirmed a place in the US Supreme Court. That’s not going to happen. So, we’ll assume the finding and smoking of old crack won’t either.