When I woke up this morning I had a small stringed instrument in my head as well as a cigar of a number four shape, which in my dream is a long corona, and possibly a Punch or a Hoyo de Monterey. Don't ask. I associate it with certain bins along the North wall, near Liga Privada.
Late last night I facilitated the entry of a small gorilla into my apartment mate's room. He wanted to be near "his woman", that being Ms. Bruin, senior roomie and sanest teddy bear.
The other three teddy bears are, unfortunately, not sane.
Well, neither is the gorilla.
Lately I've been particularly enjoying the last pipe of the day, smoked usually after a short nap. And often four or five hours after the second to the last pipe. The neighborhood has quieted down, the weather turned chilly, and there are fewer nuts evident on Polk Street, or drunken millennials.
This particular pleasure is wreaking havoc with my sleep schedule.
Late at night I sometimes wish to eat, which isn't wise.
Restraint and self-control are required.
I dream strange now.
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