Gatorade
late at night is not a recipe for a particularly sound night’s sleep.
Still, the lack of pain in my hands meant I could get up and pee, and go back to bed, and go back to sleep.
And I dreamed.
I was watching that goofy damned ADE video before I went to bed, and I dreamed I was at some firearms class. I was doing a room clearing exercise, and the rooms were black visqueen but with actual door frames with doors set up in the appropriate places.
So the timer went off and I went through the door. I cleared the space back of the door and closed it behind me. I slid along the wall, there was a small table in the room and a brand spanking new leather recliner. behind the table was a large pile of clothes so I covered the recliner while i sidled up to the clothes and kicked them with my toe; nothing there. I was going towards the recliner to clear the space there when out of the corner of my eye, I see the instructor slipping through the doorframe and the plastic “wall”
“Bang. You’re dead.”
“What? you entered the room through the wall!”
“You have to be prepared for anything”
“I have to be prepared for the supernatural event of someone being able to magically walk through a wall?”
“You have to be prepared for anything”
I saw he was wearing a vest- which made sense as he was in a fire zone, dumbass, though he shouldn’t have been- so I shot him right in the breastplate.
On the ground, gasping for air, he looks at me as if I’ve grown another head and it’s an alien head “Were you prepared for that?” I asked, and then shot again “How about that one?”
I holstered the 45 and helped him to his feet”You’d better hope I don’t tell Tam about this or you’ll be the laughingstock of the firearms training community”
Maybe I should just stick with water.

Must be something in the air. I had crazy dreams of betrayal last night.
Write a screenplay with a bunch of scenes like that. Get Tarantino and Rodriguez to make it and I’d go to the theater to see it. I don’t care if there’s no plot. Just call it “Og’s crazy dreams”.
Actually, you could easily develop a plot — just have a series of storylines that develop individually in alternating scenes, then converge at the end. Think Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels.
Bahahahaha
In my dream I probably would have pooped on him next :)
Water, hell. With hallucinations like that, you need something that ends in “…tol”…like Nembutol.
I dreamt also last night.
Only it was about Christina Hendricks.