Nightmares. The Feds were trying to find the evidence for something that if it had happened in the waking world would send me upriver for a very long time, but in the dreamworld it was too well hidden. And, in the dream, it was raining. Which complicated the search.
So honestly, I am damned glad I had nothing to do with it.
One of the effects of medication.
Extremely vivid "dreams".
Regularly.
Yesterday evening someone two streets over became violent and attacked the police with his bare hands. It was a very sudden trip off the deep end. We're speculating that a dosage of methamphetamine may have done more for him than he bargained for. Coupled with the skeevy gentlemen engaged in a transaction in the side entrance to a local drinking establishment which is closed for the duration at that same time, it shows that once the day is over, the surrealism rises.
Which, of course, explains why I carry a blackthorn with me when out smoking my pipe.
I'm sure police work has changed a bit in the city since the shelter-in-place order went into effect. Fewer street deaths, fewer residential break-ins.
More general weirdness and domestic violence.
More unstable house-bound creativity.
We have artistic people.
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