As I posted in my Tweet-stream, & on Tumblr just now:
#dream Wow. Had a nap. Dreamed that Hunter S. Thompson had planned his own death, due to age & infirmity — & he chose me to carry it out… / …we we were in his home, he was being a total curmudgeon, but playful. He had booby-trapped me & himself… / …so that I’d be the one to blow him up. I was being uncooperative, & he kept trying to trick me into doing it… / …Later, it wasn’t Thompson, it was Kurt Vonnegut. Me and a few others were there to participate… / …myself, Patrick Stewart, & my adoptive dad (Curt March, died in ’09), were all there to make sure he died as planned… / …wish I could remember what we were taking about. He (Thompson, then later, Vonnegut) was being a total asshole… / …but it was all mutual ribaldry, funny as hell, & perceived by all of us as a fitting, proper end… / …Not sure what else to add. Don’t remember much more. It was a wild one. Both sad & funny, & all seemed perfectly appropriate… / …One of my more interesting dreams, a classic. They’re usually so nightmarishly dull. Damned glad I remembered so much… / …But I guess me and Patrick Stewart were the only two who survived that one! :-D Go figure.
[end]
dkmnow
