There he was, sitting on the busy patterned couch in our living room in a white wifebeater tanktop and white boxers telling me how he had been alive this entire time. He explained how he slept most of the time and when he woke every so often he would stare at the top of the casket interior and hope that someone would realize he hadn’t died. Someone had and that was why he was sitting on the couch beside me, telling me. He was still sick, he said, and still needed a transplant. And then he laughed his warm laugh and it went blurry.
I had always heard rumours that eating dairy before bed gave you crazy dreams. I never believed it until now.
Last night I filmed another commercial for that competition I mentioned in the previous blog, and it required that I eat pizza. The filming went really late and I ended up eating some right before I went to bed. Clearly it had an effect on me.
I used to rarely have such vivid dreams. Especially dreams on something as meaningful as this.
I don’t really have much to write about today, I guess. I just needed to get it off my chest.
Thanks for reading.