Network

if you die in the dreams, do you die in real life?

asking for a friend.

that's never true, but still.

I’m going out of town next week. I need someone to watch Majy, A-Aron, and L’loyd. Feed them, play with them. You can just stay at my place and I’ll pay you.

Spoke too soon on the dream train and got run over by a guy with a very large sword who burned my hometown down and killed my dad.

somehow that part isn't as bad as my parents

Neena

Going to be missing work tonight, I'm in the hospital.

Well at least I can cross a job off the list of things Grandma will be worrying about when I call her later. So I found this website written down on a receipt at the restaurant and figured that I'd check it out. What is this some kind of local group therapy forum?

After the piano I didn’t think anything else would surprise me.

I was wrong.

So wrong.

Dream!me has a problem that much is evident. Not that I blame him all things considered.

I just spent the better part of this afternoon cleaning out my closet and identifying things that I can donate. I totally did this in my dreams, too, except in the dreams I was selling them because my credit card had been declined.

I think I'd rather just give them away. It feels better. Charity begins at home or whatever, right?

Plus more closet space means I can stock up after winter when the spring clothes come out.

These dreams are really weird though, and like not in a good way. I've definitely not grown wings or superpowers or whatever but me and my friends are definitely getting stalked by someone who knows like, literally everything about us and is possibly our dead friend.

Ugh. no thank you.

My mom was born and spent the first 18 years of her life in Texas. My mom refuses to admit that she has an accent of any sort. Because Texan isn't one of the most noticeable dialects in the United States or anything like that. Have you ever watched someone who has, and doesn't admit they have, an accent try to talk to AI? Please Mom, please continue telling me how it's the cable company's fault that their system keeps sending you to the wrong department.

That being said, maybe they shouldn't have ever changed the old menu where you just pressed numbers.

I'm beginning to understand why, in my dreams, the Host Club just always bribes me with food to get me to agree to whatever nonsense they've got going on that week. I just sat here doing homework at the kitchen table and managed somehow to eat an entire pound and a half of fruit without even noticing that I was doing it.


I guess at least it wasn't chips or something.