I had one of those split, anxiety dreams where I was in an asylum against my will and the floor consisted of something like rectangular lincoln logs that when you ran upon them scattered to reveal layer upon layer of lincoln-like logs that totally consumed you with every move. That and me and my roomate's beds were outside, getting rained upon but the most important thing was to not get the ink pens wet. That and the bathroom was a toilet terminating at the end of series of steps down, separated by a drape, and always had impatient crazies either in or waiting to use it.
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