I was in Europe, sitting in my dad’s living room. We were talking about something, but most importantly I was getting ready to catch a flight home. He mentioned my 15 year old jacket and how I needed something else. This always rubs me the wrong way, so I delivered the same old speech about how it still works and how I don’t buy shtuff I don’t need because the environment and consumerism and yada yada yada. The next thing I know I’m in the plane… and an instant later… I’m home. Or so I thought; the place didn’t look like anywhere I had ever been to. Nick was there, he asked whether I was coming out like I said I wanted to party. I said no on account of being wore slap out because of having just hopped off a plane, which just doesn’t sound like something I would have said. He was talking about how he was gonna go get some whisky flights at some place. Samplers, he called them. He pointed out that it was cool because it was 10 in the morning, not 10 at night, that he had all day to get to taste all these different whiskeys.
Next thing I know is I’m in Memphis, standing near the door of my old Overton house. I knocked. Someone I seemed to know walked by, so we started talking. I can’t recall what about, but a rather short amount of time later Bailey came out. I didn’t stop talking to this other person; she seemed unamused and growing impatient. We eventually wrapped the conversation though; this mystery person went on their way and we stepped in. We were in my Pittsburgh apartment though, which felt really strange. She was freaking out about some imagery she wanted to use for something, presumably something she was writing about, while I kept recommending ways of… well, changing it up a bit to avoid copyright claims, which went on for a few minutes before I woke up.
Dreamed the night of 01/21/2021