I'm dreaming of violence

I rarely dream (or at least rarely remember them), but this morning between 3:00 AM and 1:30 PM, I had many.

In one of the especially vivid dreams I was walking through Harlem with my mom and little brother to retrieve the purple sleeping bag that someone had stolen to use to wrap a murder victim in. But then, right when we found it, this thug in gold chains walked up and beat holy living shit out of me. When I woke up in the hospital, I didn't know what had happened to my mom and brother, but felt really guilty for having brought them there. When I actually woke up, I thought I was still broken and had a hard time starting to move again. It was unique.

The J&K train rolled into town last night and I ended up in that "you're the guys!" state of affectionate inebriation. But really, they were and are "the guys." I hope we can get an apartment together. That'd be nice.

Also, the Bostonian bought cats! Two cute as hell little kitties just rollin' around being cute as fuck all over the place.