Today I got blown off, took an epic ride through the ttc, saw some beautiful graf, had a good burger, got some boots which are excellent, got sick, fell into bed, swirled through a sick sleep for 7 hours and had another dream of past walking.
Upon my return to a past life 8 years ago, I didn’t alter the future, I went to a supermarket, fought with my sister, ate cookie dough, and ran the 50 mph man.
And the moral of the story is:
My dreams are only “normal” when I’m sick. How’s that for irony. Most nights my dreaming is something out of a Lovecraft story, but to get to normal dreams it requires I be sick. That’s broken. I’m not making plans for tomorrow. Two days running my plans have been blown off or cancelled. Not happening a third day running.