Full moon? Two consecutive days of medium-hot posole for dinner? Whatever … Herself and I both had weird dreams last night that seemed to peak around 2 this morning.
In these dreams both of us had lost our phones. Herself was able to borrow one to have an extended chat with her dead mom.
I had a gun, which trumps the phone in anyone’s game. You got a gun, you can talk to anyone and they have to listen. That’s a call doesn’t go to voicemail, y’follow me, Skeezix?
I was talking to someone in a Batman mask without the ears.
Hoo-boy.
To flush that out of my skull I went for a 5K run right after toast and coffee, lifted weights when I got home, and following a more substantial breakfast hit the Elena Gallegos to ride a few trails I’ve been neglecting.
If that doesn’t hit the reset button I don’t know what will.
The usual nightmares continue in DeeCee, of course. But we can’t blame them on posole. Maybe the moon. …
Mad Blog Media 
Dream of the Rarebit Fiend
Winsor McCay was the real deal. You can see the inspiration some of the Sixties’ underground cartoonists like Dan O’Neill, Rick Griffin, and Victor Moscoso took from his work. Also, and too, modern luminaries like Bill Watterson of “Calvin and Hobbes.”
The unusual nightmares also continue here in Chicago now.
Ho boy. Off to the races, are we? Or should I say, “Off to the racists?”
Those National Guard and ICE army folks ain’t there to fight crime, they are there to get the voting machines after dumpster claims massive fraud in the mid-terms.
Hard to fight crime and commit it at the same time, yeah? Sure helps to have a Supreme Court that’s perpetually bent over with nothing under the robes besides lube.
I remember a time when the Repuglicants used to decry “activist judges.” Depends on what they’re activating, it seems.
The nightmares start with the morning news.