Tess Dream June 16, 2009

Dream Tuesday, 16 2009 I see my friend Tess from work. I follow her. At the middle of the block, on the West side of the street, on the Southwest corner of Princess and Georgia Street in Vancouver. She just bought some crack and was about to smoke it with a friend. I follow her up stairs and into an alcove, like a workshed. She was wearing a white puffy jacket. Curled hair. Can I have some too? I said. Of course, she said. I look at Tressy. I think I am feeling normal now, I won’t feel so good after I smoke the crack. I probably won’t like Tess afterwards, if she smokes the crack, and that is whether or not I light up also. Her friend, a Native guy shows up. They light the pipe. I see a ball point pen, and at one end, was the white piece of crack, held in Tess’ mouth, which Tess lit. They smoke. First Tess, then the Native. Then I walk out of the shed closing the door behind me. Hippy, South America, I don’t smoke cocaine. Then the three of us were at a house. Tess and the guy just smoked some crack. Then me and Tressy teleport to the next room, a living room. I said, I don’t like smoking crack. The coming down part is the worst. Then Tess said. That was a downer. I don’t like that. Why don’t you get out now? Get out, buggerboy. I thought my suspicions that I would not like her on crack are confirmed. What did you call me? I was walking out the back door, looking back into the room and saw Tess, she said. Buggerboy, your father broke his leg. Then I went back in. Why did …