So earlier in the week I dreamed I was gazing into the mirror at my own devil’s face (with one white eye) saying ‘Beelzebub, Beelzebub’ in a very creepy voice and thinking to myself (a bit startled) ‘I’ve got to stop working for that man, he’s doing the devil’s work’.
So that’s bad, right? I suppose I could take the devil as a metaphorical adversary that I was unintentionally aiding. In which case it was a good dream, because I realised there was an issue. On the other hand. Devil face. In the mirror. Bad.
So last night was a relief. Lying on a warm, sundrenched grassy hill, smoking a joint with Kurt Cobain and living the teenagehood that only exists in our nostalgic minds. Sweet. And I’ve never been a Kurt groupie, but turns out he’s such a gosh-darned lovely guy.
Taking bets on tonight’s dream. Mellow or terrifying? Putting in an order for mellow.