3/20/06: After a long day/night of dreams, all I can remember is leaving this decrepit tenement building...weird people leered at us and approached. When I entered the building I had my Smith&Wesson switchblade
blond girl, who looked a lot like Jessi, said there a lot. Then her father, a strangely intense, heavyset man with greying hair showed up. He asked us what we were doing. When we said we were visiting he smiled hungrily at us. I got real, real uneasy. Eric glanced up a picture on the wall and said, "Uh, your mom's tumor looks like the mole on George Bush's neck..." (not that I remembered if he has one - I don't think he does). He moved to stand up and the father moved in a way that seemed to me to suggest he was gonna stop us. I grabbed my switchblade, but it didn't come fully out, and it
EDIT: Recalling back, I remember debating with someone about what
'continuum' meant, and I was holding my pipe Pandora as I spoke..."