Last night I had the craziest dream:
I was throwing a massive party at my mother's house in Connecticut, and all of my friends were there. Adult libations flowed freely, the air was thick with the waft of copious weed consumption, loud music played, and good vibes were all around. After a good mingle among the attendees, I took a break in the dining room and began to roll a huge blunt of the kind my old friend Gordon used to call a "scoober."
As I smoked the scoober, who should press his shirtless pecs against the window but Jason Momoa? I got up and let him into the house, only to discover that he was completely naked, except for being covered with runnels of crude oil. I did not ask why he was in such a state, and he suddenly presented me with a huge fish for me to cook later. That was nice, but considering that naked Jason Momoa was present, I had to find my dear friend Cheri and let her meet him. I made my way through the masses but could not find her.
While looking for Cheri, the party suddenly came to a halt as all ceased activity and formed a line to pay respects to a kid next door who was dying of cancer, and our coming to see him was to be considered as his pirate-themed "going away party." The kid's house was an artsy abode whose interior featured Escheresque stairways and angles that required full concentration and great physical dexterity to navigate.
I never made it to see the dying child, as I ran into Cheri and told her of the presence of naked Jason Momoa. I steered her in his direction, but that's where the dream ended and I awoke to face the day.
Thank you, Gabapentin, for another night of weird-assed dreaming!
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