i don't go in for the demure approach when recounting my dream sequences over dinner
expect blood, guts, and glitter in the next installment of Welcome To My Subconscious Neighborhood. Holy shit, my dreams have been weird, and getting weirder every time I go in for even a catnap. The only thing I can think to do is write it all down and use the good parts, whatever they may be. I am usually pleasantly surprised by the poetry of the dreaming psyche, at least when it comes to symbol choice. It's the first time I've ever ridden a haunted freudian carousel, anyway.