Wednesday, November 16, 2022


More intense dreaming is one of the effects of taking blood pressure meds, as well as having a caffeinated beverage before going to bed. And also, for a surprising number of individuals, partaking of too much nicotine late at night. And I must mention in relation to that last datum, that too much nicotine turns me into a right royal rectum, which is why I tend to avoid Ye Olde Signe (Dunhill), HH Rustica, and to a lesser extent Aberrant by Sutliff and Per Jensen.
Which are all fine pipe tobaccos, nothing wrong with them.

But I'd rather not be a rectum.

Naturally, as any regular man would do, I start the day with a hot beverage and a smoke. Which is also what I do when I wake up in the middle of the night. The streets around here at that hour (actually almost any hour) are more peculiar than elsewhere. Which is accentuated very immensely by being only half awake and pensively ambling about with one's pipe for all the world like a modern day Gandalf looking for Hobbits to torment.

Nasty things, Hobbitses, I hates 'em.
Errm, sorry. Someone else.
One absolutely cannot rely on the corners of the eyes when it's dark outside. There are shadows. The slowly moving ones may be feral street people, the threatening or peculiar ones are goblins, dwarves, and ghosts. Or suburban drunks and orcs.

Bright lights at visions edge are either lanterns hanging from wet tree branches or headlights going down Clay Street driving the wrong way.

Oh wait. Those are people walking their dogs. Fido needs to 'go' at two or six in the morning. And please note that they are armed with baggies. Can't lunge at the brutes.

Damned Hobbitses.

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