I gotta remember to write down my dreams in the morning when I remember them better... two nights ago I was about to let a cop convince me to let someone drill a hole in my leg in order to help capture someone who was going to blow up a building... then last night I was walking the perimeter of a triangular building over and over, and each time I reached one corner, the security minions kept harrassing me, even though they apparently knew I was working for The Boss. Weird. Let's see what locura tonight's dreamworld brings.

Some dreams are apparently what Ayn Rand describes something like the undigested memories of the day. But others seem to be more like glimpses into alternative realities. The above two, I believe, fall into the second category. Someday, if I keep religiously writing these down in as much detail as I can remember, and the search engines improve, I will find someone who's also visiting these same universes, and we can piece together a Bigger Picture, though I doubt we'll ever discover the Big Picture -- it's always going to be out of reach.

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