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my son was smoking and burned a
My dream was about my friend, Harold
My dream was about my friend, Harold , and I. As I Remember it, we were swimming in his bathtub when Burneda walked in, carrying a tray of cookies. She offered us each one but I never got mine because before I could take one off the tray, Harold grabbed me by the waist and proceeded to do the Heimlich maneuver. It seemed like it went on for hours, but when it finally stopped, he began smoking a cigarette. I remember waking up, with no clothes on for some reason, and all the cookies were gone.
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I was going on a journey; to
I was going on a journey; to where I don’t know, and found myself at the airport. Just before I presented myself to the check-in desk I felt an annoying lump on the bridge my nose; slightly to the left hand side... like a plook. So I trudged off to the nearest mirror for a look, and discovered the shocking truth. This was no pimple, zit, spot or suppuration of pus that had grown like a mountain to the surface of my skin. Nor was this a teenage bout of acne waiting to be compressed between my pinched thumb and forefinger, exuding a lava that resembled the contents of a squeezy bottle of mustard. But what was it? I had to look closer..... A miniature flower had taken root and bloomed through the surface of my earthly pore. Like a daisy gently bristling in a grassy meddow, the pollen scented aroma of summer surrounded by silken petals bloomed in colour and vibrancy. I began to pick off the petals one by one only to find hidden under each an angry wasp buzzing with rage and torment, including the Queen who sat under the petal at the top of the flower pointing north at 12 o’clock. For fear of being stung I couldn’t touch anymore and had to leave any future ‘weeding’ until after my flight. As my flight landed I found myself in Windsor and a new job. I was working for another Queen, this time Elisabeth I of Scotland and II of England. My job was to help with the smooth running of the upcoming Royal Wedding of Harry and Meghan. The job didn’t last and I soon found myself unemployed. Handing back in my Royal page-boy type uniform, consisting of plus fours, white tights, buckled shoes and a thrilly laced shirt, I returned to Mexico. Dejected, starving and struggling for cash I decided, upon advice from a friend, to become self-employed and was soon earning a pittance gift wrapping souvenirs purchased by tourists for their loved ones at home. It wasn’t enough though and my meagre earnings barely stretched to buying a plate of taco soup, rice and beans. But In a weird twist of fate my dream morphed into a strange success story – like the American dream I tweaked my business and moved it lock, stock and two smoking barrels to a gay nightclub. I was now offering a naked gift wrapping service and was rolling in the money.
I was fighting with my mother over
It was night time I was staying
It was night time I was staying at a school. I smoked weed with a group of older people in the football field. There was a shed in the back of the school with fireworks in a barrel next to it. I hid some fireworks in the shed while smoking a cigarette. The sun starts rising and I see a man pretending to dress as a firefighter. He starts pouring gasoline out of a gas tank all across the backside of the school. And lights it on fire. The fore was put out and the man was arrested. Later on after it's already turned day I meet two children at the front of the school. Little girl named Abigail with brown curly hair and big brown eyes and a round face. They were playing on a catapult. I smoke a cigarette and leave the school