dreamz.

My friend texted me this morning to tell me that I had appeared in his dream... as an accomplice in a murder. This was new. I get the occasional "hey you were in my dream last night and we were running naked through fields of marshmallows and pixie sticks toward a giant sand dune then we all of a sudden were back in high school listening to Mr. Lum talk about Calculus and his sweet Christmas yard display... then I woke up," but never have I been an accomplice. This is exciting. Here's how the text went (quick note: I don't know why I talk so weird with this particular friend of mine, but my grammar always always turns into that of a mid-20th century English professor on pot):

T: Morning text!! You were in my dream last night. We may or may not have been an accessory to murder...
M: Oh dear. Please tell me the details!
T: Well somehow we were on a back porch that was like a hybrid between bread & cup and pepe's only super high up. This dude is afraid of Thomson [the dog]. We go back and forth, yelling, etc. You steal the guitar then Chaz pushes him off the side... so I guess now that I tell it I am in the clear.
M: Yowza. I feel quite awful. Need I repent?
T: Nah. He deserved it I bet.
M: Well as long as he deserved it...
T: Yeah you're good...

I wonder what ridiculous things I'll be doing next via the subconscious. I still can't believe I stole his guitar.