I dreamt about Sasquatches last night. Fake Sasquatches, but the costume was really very good.
I was in Michigan (in my dream), on a road trip with my sister and her kids, my niece and nephew. Grosse Point, Michigan. You know, like the movie. Except John Cusak wasn’t there.
Yeah. Dreams are weird. Like when I was flying around, and thinking, “They may be fake Sasquatches, but at least I’m safe while I’m flying.”