jhnbrssndn:

The past few days I’ve been having very strange, very vivid dreams, including dreams where:

• I had cosmetic surgery to make me look like a 25-year old Chinese girl - not a sex change, mind you, just the cosmetics.  Seemed like a great idea at the time until the day I turned up at work, and everyone was all, “What the fuck?”
• I bumped into Morgan Freeman in a cafe in Liverpool.  As I walked near his table, and he saw my shadow, he turned round, said hello and offered me a signed, vinyl copy of the album of ratpack songs he had just recorded.  He was wearing the same suit as he did on the album cover - a sort of shimmery green thing halfway between 1967-vintage James Brown and Elvis Presley.  I took the album and left to catch a bus, to who-knows-where.
• I was staying in some American city akin to the less desirable areas of Baltimore as depicted in The Wire.  Every time I left the house, I didn’t get mugged or shot at, but people did run up to me and throw anthrax in my face and/or inject me with heroin.