joeseph

during the course of the night i found myself travelling. i was among a huge crowd of people, and we were walking along an abandoned freeway. everything was peaceful. i formulated some words, to use as a marker: once society is gone, there will be highways full of love. i started to run soon, as i took a turn down a decrepit offramp. there was a horse chasing me, and i had to jump over this gap. i could barely make it, but it would deter the thing that was chasing me. i remember it as a part of another story; this is where he breaks his legs.

so i make the jump, at the cost of hurting myself, and walk off and away. i remember looking at the trees in front of me, as the sun was setting. i realize: this is an amazing place. it dawns on me. why should i turn away from the sun, from beauty, from comfort? except there were no words in the realization. i'm not about to stick with this shitty storyline where i break my legs and then walk into the forest at dark...

i turn around. the sun gets brighter and brighter; the day goes backwards as more of the meadow i'm in is illuminated. it's breathtaking. i see, appreciate, visualize, create. now, for some place to sit down. i see a spot up on a hill and make towards it. i am enjoying nature around me, the beautiful scene that i've become aware of. if only i had something to eat...

without even wanting it that bad, i see a plate of sandwiches on top of the platform! i near the crest of the hill to see more of the plastic platform that was designed for me. wouldn't you know, there is a copy of super smash bros all set up, with Falco waiting on the screen for me, already picked. i turn around to scope out the little valley below me... it has been set up as an amphitheater. there is a projector which can broadcast smash to a theater-sized screen. wow.

but this isn't all that i want. these things are just secondary. the act of creating was more important. the comforts are no good in comparison. with great power comes great responsibility. i can't settle for this anymore.

i walk around some more, and the dream slips back into non-lucid. i talk to someone about playing a "perfected game," playing around the edges. a perfectionistic game. steven is there. he still plays, although it's a different game--he sprays gunfire into the lockers along the wall, opening various doors. pinging sounds, and different point denominations pop up. that's cool, i guess.

the second dream, steven is driving us along the highway. he's in a big van. we nearly get in an accident; there's some way crazy shit going on. different drivers stop and swerve. we go past a cop, another one... strange he didn't pull us over, but maybe it was because the evasive/risky driving helped us avoid an accident. or maybe it was because there were other things on his mind...

we soon come to a DEAD STOP. people start shouting "GET TO THE GROUND!" There is running. I feel true panic, and helicopters show up, and armed men rappel down the side from ropes. THE TERRORISTS ARE HERE. Except it ends up being a government agency, run rogue. This is authority doing this. Everybody flees. I go to the side of the highway, since I didn't get much chance to run. I tumble down, down, and do my best to hide by curling up into a ball. i wait anxiously, noting the quality of my breath and the way the panic makes me focus.

I've been found. A huge man comes up to me and points a massive gun to my head. "Join us," he says. I look up, and in a fraction of a second, before I can respond, he shoots me.

I'm dead. But I walk and float around as a spirit. The men are burly as hell, straight out of the movies, and their guns are nearly as big as they are. I see them rounding people up. "Join us." At a moment's hesitation, they shoot them in the head. This isn't fair.

I have an awakening. Fuck this. I'm going to do justice to them. I come at one of the soldiers, and we fight for awhile before I realize that I can phase through him, as a ghost. I go to the man who killed me and seize possession of his body. He jerks around in pain and panic. I make him jump off a balcony into the courtyard, and it brings me great pleasure to feel his neck breaking. He is dealt with.

The setting is now a mansion. I float around all ghastly, and I try to hover and levitate. I get mixed success, but can't really escape the pull of gravity. As I float upstairs, I see a creepy-looking house fixture, which may be imbued with the spirit of someone else who lived or died here. There is a face I perceive, and it starts to talk to me, rapidly, in whispers, faster than I can comprehend. I'm scared, but not deterred. As I near the thing the voices intensify, but the dream fades. I fade back into sleep paralysis, and feel my hands, which have fallen asleep over my stomach. Back into reality, at least for a bit. (I got a pretty intense wave of fear writing that, just now.)

A third dream, mostly non-lucid. I am at my grandparents' house. The main arc was the ocean. I go out back and it is beautiful, syrupy and black and calm. I go back in the house and see some waves. They are big, and I wonder if they'll come up to the house. But they don't. I go back in and back out again, and there are surfers on the waves. The prominence of the ocean fades in and out as I perceive it. I am losing this place.

Here is my dad, who is more attached to this view than I am. "This is the last time, isn't it?" One of us says this, the other nods and cries. Maybe it's both of us.

The surfers populate the waves, and they come towards me exultantly. But they won't reach! I go into the neighbor's house, trespassing inadvertently, to try and get a better view. But it doesn't work. Eventually I am wearied, from trying to create the signs, and I have a false awakening. My sister is there; I'm trying to watch a blank TV and create visualizations, crazy black and red lines. It feels like a futile pursuit. "The same kind of people who do this are the ones who stock close." ....But I do other things than stock close, too. She grabs the remote and makes the tv ROTATE back and forth, like a tower fan, which bugs me to no end. I hit her, hard, grabbing the remote, and then kick her once, out of hatred. Immediately I feel guilty. Soon I wake up IRL, knowing almost exactly how much longer I've slept in for.

No pain no gain.

the night before last i had a dream about a man who had been attacked by a bear. his hands were mauled, so he underwent a surgery where all his fingers were chopped off, but the bones in his palms were separated so he had four proto-fingers which he could wield with some success. the tendons in his forearms were wooden, and he moved like he was a puppet.

someone is skiing with their girl, and i look behind me. there is a polar bear, cool as a cucumber with scarf and sunglasses, skiing right behind. IS THAT A FUCKING BEAR?!?


last night i had a dream which was more of a revisiting than anything. in a setting which i felt very familiar with, even the plot of the dream. we were in this garage, a bunch of kids, some young girls, a big beefy dude who must've been 7 foot tall and crazy muscled, some punkish boys. we went outside the garage and the boys tried to ride their BMX through the open space in a fence. it didn't work. we went back to the garage and i jumped on the big guy's back while he squatted me. "OK, my turn." i turn around and he climbs on my back, i can't really do it successfully. maybe one or two reps before i fall backwards. i turn around and it was just a little girl on my back, who must've been at least 70 pounds lighter than me :O......

earlier in the week i had cool vivid dreams, and i remember making a point to write it down WHILE DREAMING, so i woke up and wrote it out longhand, as well as drawing pictures of the most vivid images. really solid practice.

more dreams last night about being stuck in a subpar environment. my old roommates from college were there, in this house, smoking pot. they had big bongs but were careless with the way they smoked, dirty. they pulled out huge chunks of weed from inside the pipe, then turned it upside down and shook the bong water around, mixing green with ash. do you wanna smoke? nah, i don't do that shit anymore. twilight in the house, bad lighting. maybe that's just the morning sun and how it's been coming through the window as i sleep. morgan is there, in his own room, inaccessible. i go into my own room, and i have two screens. i resign to the computer, here's my screen, here's another to the right of me. emily guitierrez sits next to me, doll. i look at her. "this is a lot of screens." she nods, silently.

i think later on the dream turns sexual, as i'm fingering a girl with a small pussy. it's like on display; she says "no, the clit is down more." and someone else is with me. i put a finger in her ass and make a point about the contractions of her vagina and how these two are related. weird and explicit.

after awhile i get up and walk around the house. i can hear morgan in there, talking to himself. there's a part that i can go into, another part that i can't. his dad james is there. they are working together, on some project that they keep in the garage (his room). i can hear him from outside, on the computer, talking about what he's doing and laughing to himself. i can't decide if this is crazy or noble, that he should be so expressive even on his own. his tone of voice seems a little desolate.

later on i get a chance to see what he's doing. i've been hired to work with them. There's a big apparatus with little metal grips that come together to hold up a log with holes in the middle. Like a centipede, two metal arms come together at regular intervals along the whole length. There are pads on the end, and they stick through the holes in the wood. They can rotate all around. Very sophisticated machinery. I get the sense that this thing is edible...

We watch a movie in a big group of people. As the crowds are leaving, we go around and pick up loaves of bread. These are related to the edible project. I grab some from outside, through a car window as we depart, and throw them over. Cool, nice job. The shared satisfaction of throwing something to someone and having them catch it.


That's about it for that one, but there's another pretty telling dream I remembered halfway through writing. I've gone to the end of the land with my dad. There are fish in the water, which is kind of dirty. I have actually built a submarine, constructing it out of plastic parts--old bins and buckets, coffee bins, etc. I'm piecing it together, excited that we're gonna go underwater together. But he's too big. I submerge, and I see him kind of just hanging out on the surface cheering me on. Pretending like he's doing this thing with me. After I grab some fish or relics or whatever I was looking for under the water, I come back up (it's not very deep) and confront him about it. You didn't even go down with me!!

This is a sticking point, I'm pissed. He mentions my mom and my sister, and the word "love," and says "...doing whatever the hell you guys do on your own." Those weren't the exact words, but it was an alienating statement. Fuck you!!! What do you mean, "whatever I do"?! He was insinuating that everything I do is senseless, meaningless, and unimportant. Maybe because he's not there, or maybe because he can't do it. The adventurous stuff, like the submarine. I go off on him. This is bullshit. Just because you are INCAPABLE of doing something, you can't see the IMPORTANCE of it. He was writing it off, everything I do. Everything I do.

Reflecting a bit, there's definitely dumb shit I do (same as everybody), purposeless shit. The feeling in the dream with which I sat down to the computer screens was pretty important. People are out there smoking weed and being buffoonish, but that's my escape. The computer. Even when there's questionable stuff going on around me, it's rarely the best option. That feeling of melancholy and apathy is one and the same. I mean, come on though. A submarine that I built by myself. That's pretty sick.

There's a lot of emotion regarding morgan, one of my primary dream figures, still, but I feel like it's still hidden, repressed, forgotten. Whatever it is. Just a hint of him is there. And maybe that's all that's left anyways, after he died. Even before that I didn't know him very well, not for years. It's like I'm sleuthing to figure out just what happened to him; maybe I know the answer, it's just deeper down.

fun dreams last night... it's like they were coming in and out of focus, fractals coming together when i put more attention in. it's like you gotta WANT them dream, and then a cognizant narrative will materialize (or you will materialize inside of it).

two of them stand out as important. i was at a beach resort, and i had met this girl. the conversation was going well, as i was sitting across from her at a table, and i realized it was time to ask her name. "Allison." (or another A name... i remember later on I forgot what it was with 100% certainty, but I re-labeled her Allison.) We were at a beach, her on the sand and me in the water. There was a pretty steep embankment, and the waves were big. I felt riptide currents pulling at me from underneath the water, grabbing at my ankles. But I carried on the conversation. The water is cold. Always cold.

It pulled me out at one point, but I remembered to swim to the side, and not against it. I got back to where she was waiting pretty easily, never out of eyesight, and I climbed back up onto the wet sand after a couple of tries. This has been a really common image for me, climbing up a sandy hill where I can't get any purchase. It used to be on climbing holds, which would crumble away because they were too sandy. Anyways, I made it back up. I was so happy to be WARM. "Let's just lie in the sun." She lies down close to me, touching. I'm so happy to just relax. The ocean is cool too, but it's dangerous. Relax. You are comfortable, you are the man that they want. Relax. It was almost like a dropping of pretensions; I didn't have to try to come off as brave. Our whole sides are touching. I try to grab her butt... she laughs and brushes me away. Oh well.

HOLY FUCKING SHIT WAS THAT AN ALLIGATOR?!? An enormous alligator rushes past us and flies into the ocean. We see him bobbing up and down in the surf. Jesus, he must be 12 feet long. A swimming tank. As we turn around another one comes out of the swamp behind us. He almost BITES me, but then goes into the water. Here's another one... He's smaller, and I GRAB his head before he can bite my hands. It's hard to hold his jaws shut (despite what they tell you in the nature shows); it still takes a lot of grip strength. I go back and show the people running the resort. What's the idea with THIS? "I almost got BITTEN by one of these things, it must've been 14 feet long!!" Soon, I am only holding his head. He has shrunk and shrunk. His tail fell off, like a lizard's when they get caught by a bird. Soon, it's just his neck and his head. The last part behind his neck detaches, and he's dead. We're going to eat him--it looks like fish, like the trout I cooked last night (IRL). I look at the bone structure and the flesh. Very interesting. Smells fishy, too. After I'm sure that the head won't move--it looks like one of those trophies you see put on the wall in creepy voodoo houses in New Orleans--I discard it.

Later I'm in a car, going up what seems to be East Cliff Drive in Santa Cruz. I point this out... These settings don't really mesh. Pretty cool that I knew it was changing, that's a good sign for lucidity. I want to go and meet back up with the girl, but we're getting farther and farther away. We come down the hill on the other side into a city. William is in the car. What the fuck man? I grab the wheel and crash the car in a fit of laughter. I don't give a fuck about this car ride! This ain't real! i get out and start to explore the city. One main priority is finding a place to shit. (Maybe I'll just take this as a sign and try to wake up and fart every time this happens from now on.) Walking around, different shops, different clothes. Some of them are cool, others not. There are some that are really sexy (and I could be getting this image mixed up from another dream I had later in the night), but I pull them off the rack and they're the same brand that I have already, or there's a color scheme that I don't like where only the sleeves are that nice color, and the rest is white. No dice.

I go back into a cafe kind of thing, it's a walk-through shop. The space is limited so they've made it like a museum. The bathrooms are at the end. There's no stall, only a toilet at the end. Oh well, I don't really care. I can do my business here I guess. I wake up.


The dream earlier in the night is going to be harder to reconstruct. (I hope I haven't jinxed myself with that statement.) In the future I'll probably go in the opposite order, since the more recent dreams tend to come back more easily. I remembered the title: "hot air balloons." That's a trick I use to remember a dream--I'll give it a title after dreaming it (sometime during the night), and the connotations are usually enough to help and bring it back. It was me and my sister. We started off in the clothes store, and we walked outside onto the roof. We were going on a great adventure. Our socks were full of prickles, and we had to take them all out. It came from stepping on the grass. Once on the roof I believe we took a ride in a hot air balloon; a distinct image of falling, falling, and opening up the chute (the balloon catching the air) once we were down low. It was barely enough time. Later the same thing happened, the same trip up, the same fall. Except this time the balloon didn't open up. We hit the floor. That's when we came to, dazed and sober on the roof. We took the prickles out of our socks. We had been hiding from somebody, we had a small object, like a ball of power that enabled us to live this lifestyle. Maybe it was just money we had borrowed from somebody. We were in an attic kind of place, and had been living there for a while. We had to give the money back. I found a one dollar bill and a five dollar bill. I gave the one dollar bill back, and kept the five jokingly. Then me and the person whose roof it was switched back, then he gave me the five and let me keep it. Swell. A cityscape underneath us. The narrative is gone; it's just a jumble of images.

Lots of waiting. Another dream: I am rooming with Emilio. Like it's the last year of college, again. But I've got somewhere else to go. I'm alternately sleepy or waking up. We want to play videogames, street fighter, but it's late. I'm moving on, man. I'm not trying to stay up late until 2am every night like I used to. Wandering around. It's either the twilight in the morning time or late at night, alternately. I've got somewhere else to go. My soul isn't here. But I check my phone, right as i'm leaving, and I'm disappointed, because he sent me a text: "Every time I need some reliable quiet energy, I can count on Joe "

HMMM.


I definitely feel like I'm at a turning point. I've been thinking a lot about the unconscious mind and understanding it, aligning it, since watching a hypnosis video the other day. Meditating on it, alternating between higher consciousness and the steamy subconscious underneath, letting it out with the out-breath and cooling it with the colder, crisp external world during the in-breath. There are things I'm gonna have to drop, obviously. Situations I will have to take myself out of because they aren't me anymore. That's the message of that in-between dorm dream, which is clear enough.

As for the alligators?? I have no idea what they mean. The ocean is clear enough--quit frontin'. To have one conversation on the surface level, with my head above the water, and then have different forces pulling at me from underneath--forces which I'm scared of and don't want to show to anybody else--that's a bad sign. Just get out of it. Get warm, get comfortable. Go for it and don't be sorry.

BUT THOSE ALLIGATORS THO

first dream:

forgot it right now, hopefully it will come back to me

second: really sexual dream. austin's girlfriend is in his bed with some old mexican dude. i am half asleep and half awake. they check on me--"hey joe, hey joe!" but i'm unconscious or making a good performance that i am. i hear them having sex in the dark; there is some hubbub about a condom and whether or not the older dude will even finish. he's a gangster kind of guy, so he's got his ego. it turns out that he can't, so he leaves in a hurry. austin comes back in. "what a joke," and they finish up. i consider asking if they would be down for a threesome. maybe that would be the best way to go after all.

third dream: i am reading, reading, reading, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. I'm about halfway through, always about halfway through. The book is worn and bound into sections with different colored scraps of paper. There's a blue section, a yellow section, a red one, and they get smaller and smaller towards the end of the book. The pages are in roman numerals, and they count towards the highest number in the middle, and go back towards zero in the last half, so the pagination is symmetrical. I'm reading, reading, reading in order to write an essay. The book is the main focus. I might have been at a school before, but now we're in the car. Mrs. Fulgham, my english teacher from high school, is driving; we're on a field trip. She drives and drives in a motherly fashion; we're in a big SUV or something with a lot of students inside. The outside world whirs by peacefully, silently. I figure she is doing this to help us concentrate, and it's working. After a while we get to where we need to be, and she drops us off. Parents are called to come and pick up their kids. But mine are gone. I have left my backpack in camarillo (even though geographically it would be towards the back of Thousand Oaks), so I need to be driven back there or picked up there. Everything is amber and green as the sun sets, but the cars whiz on by on the busy roads. I stop and talk with a few parents and older figures that I know as they pick people up, but I can't get a ride back. I start walking, up on a trail, talking to my mom. She seems drunk. "If you can't come get me, it's fine. I'll just walk to Camarillo." I say this BEGRUDGINGLY. This is the alternative I've been given since nobody is there for me. I hang up.

There are a few other people walking, and I follow them. I think Cassidy from work leads the way on this trail, which weaves down through orchards and nurseries, and goes between and under picket fences in the hills. It's magical in a watership down kind of way; I feel like a little kid running around and exploring. There is danger here, but just the PERFECT amount to make it adventurous. I'm not scared at all. One particularly vivid image is me staring out over one fence, a fork in a the road. On the other side is Simi Valley (again, figuratively but not geographically)--I see the ocean and the greenery of the hill. It looks so peaceful, but to get over the fence I have to make maybe a 12 foot drop into the bushes. The ground is much lower on that side. I think to myself: "This is a leap of faith." !!!

I make my way down and end up going through that path anyways, just in passing. And I keep on, weaving and ducking in between the hills and following these hidden paths through the bushes and trees.

Nothing brought up the first dream. Oh well. I'll save this and come back and edit it if I remember today (I suspect that I will).

Whenever I want to remember my dreams, it's like I make a mental note about it right after I'm done. During the half-awake state. It's a continued effort.

One dream I remember (more may come back to me). I get off the bart station at berkeley. I have a backpack full of food, and I'm carrying a gallon of milk. Walking outside, two people strike up a conversation, which moves to my diet. Oh, you know, I try to keep it pretty paleo, low-carb, with light helpings of meat. That's my ideal diet, though it's not exactly the truth. I talk for a bit because that shit interests me. We part ways.

I meet up with Kevin Toy. He's driving a crazy nice car, and we drive around town, talking about life and everything. I sense there's a difference in attitudes between us. The kid fascinates me, though. I want to learn about him. We end up having to turn around, so we pull into someone's GARAGE. He tries to drive through the side door to turn around, but the car doesn't fit. It's an old-fashioned kind of jalopy at this point, and I'm afraid we're going to break the car and also all the shit in their garage. Kevin is still pretty lighthearted, cracking jokes and feeling good. He might be high, might have smoked in the car. I take control of the situation, and tell him to go outside since I'm afraid we're making too much noise and we're gonna wake up the occupants of the house. We are trespassing, after all. I don't want them to think it's a robbery.

So I get SERIOUS. I hit something with my foot as I'm stepping over some exercise equipment, and I start to panic. But it's OK. Chill, Joe. You're OK. I make my way back to the side door, get the keys, open it. I don't want them to lose their keys, so I close the door (leaving it unlocked) after putting the keys back inside on the floor. They should be easy to find this way.

I make my way back outside and ktoy is BLOWING BUBBLES. What a G. It's just different ways of looking at things, I guess. We walk outside; it's a really nice area. Nice cars on nice cars. And the reason why is... there's a car factory right down the road! There's a super clean mustang GT, a ferrari, lamborghini, etc. We walk into the factory and I start looking at these really awesome hoodies they have there. I'm a sucker for HIGH FASHION. We're trying to play it cool, but I overhear that the people have called the cops and they know that the robbers are in the store. Oh shit. Still trying to play it cool, though. They start to close all the garage doors all around the factory, locking us in. We don't want to RUN and give ourselves away, but I see that another group of people just took off, and they made it out. Damn.

We get stuck, and they start to interrogate us. There's a power dynamic between me and the other people. The woman who's in charge leads me down a series of hallways. Left, right, left. I don't want to backtalk her, but I guess I come off as kind of standoffish. Sure, that's fine. Just tell me where to go. Left here. Straight, down the end of the hall. Sit down.

She actually gives me a strange piece of advice: "Just stay confident, stay in control. They don't think that you did it." Odd for her to switch sides at this point. But OK.

It turns out that it's Oscar (Nilsson's) family. His sister or something; his mom. (It's not actually her; this was a dream-identification attached to a random face.) "You don't remember when we stayed with you," she says. She seems hurt. There was no real resolution to this dream. I can't remember anything after briefly talking to her. This seems to happen after I get into twisty, mazy hallway settings.

The most interesting thing about this was definitely the different modes of being assertive. BLOWING BUBBLES! So I can do all this without getting "serious," without entering into panic mode.

Also vague images of looking at a highline underneath a pier, under the water, with the waves coming, Adam DeMonte. Shitting in a toilet that's too small and having shit stream down the sides cuz I missed. "sorry, there's poo there." Trying to clean it up. Undecipherable at this point. I have to go get ready for work lol

I realized how stupid it is to not write down the "bad" dreams, when they're equally important in my development. Maybe more important; the things that are the hardest to unravel, the things that generate the most resistance, usually have a bigger payoff when you follow them through.

Not much happened last night, I slept until 8 in the morning when the light started coming through the window and then went back to sleep until 10. Had some various fragments, only one that I remember well.

There is a fair of some sorts, a gathering of people. It's like the Pride parade, except we are in a conservative place. (It's funny how I had fully forgotten about this other dream until I went to write the other down.) My family is there, Mom, Dad, sister. I walk around and around in a loop, trying to see what's going on, but also not really looking at the big crowds of people. We're all on a hill. I walk around barefoot, and I have to avoid the spiky plants and dead grass on the ground. The climate is dry and dirty. I am constantly looking for a place to sit down, walking in circles, but there are no chairs or anything. I see that my sister and others have dug big holes into the ground, which is sandy like the beach. They're sitting in them, in little hollows. I finally plop down too.

People speak around me, the peanut gallery. "It's amazing... the people are coming together." They march on down the hill, from where they were sitting on top before, and come through the main gate of the place. Outside the gate, more people are stacked. It's almost like a rally race, where the sides of the race are just people, forming a fence with their bodies. A big, janky-looking truck with metal girders running along the top of it barrels down the hill, honking. People cheer, and he screams around the corner past the gate, rounding it and passing out of view. The procession continues behind him.

The mood of this dream is odd. Everybody is very proud of themselves, yet there's a feeling of hostility in the air. Maybe this is just what people have to do sometimes.

Another: I'm hiking in the hills with my dad. Everything is very clear--we came up the road leading into the green hills, which continue up into bigger mountains. There are buildings sparsely located around us, some this way, some that way. He points out to me the directions--this is over here, that's over there. Baja (the dog!) is following us, but eventually she can't keep up. (Someone actually let her into the room I was sleeping in right before I had this dream, so that could be a reason why she showed up.) I point this out to my dad, who says "Baja is the least of my worries right now." Eventually she comes back to us.

As I get some momentum going up the hill, he pauses in pain. "My knee..." Oh, yeah. He bends down to shake it out a little bit, then we keep on. The street is almost like Western, in Santa Cruz. We can see down to the left of us a valley full of greenery, and the setting sun hits it in a beautiful golden way. We start down a side path, and my dad takes off his shoes. His Keen sandals, to be exact . He wants to go barefoot so he can "dig in" a little bit better. I don't have much problem with this terrain, but I wonder about him. Our ultimate goal was to make it up into the mountains, where there are clouds darkening the summit. It fades into obscurity because it's so far away. I don't know what's causing the darkness, maybe it's the night coming on or maybe it's just a different kind of place.

At any rate, soon after we start going down the side path, the dream fades.



On a related note I still really like the routine of waking up in the morning, drinking a cup of tea, and writing down my dreams. Seems healthy, and it gets me up and about at any rate.
Til next time.