As I've mentioned before, I seldom remember dreams. This morning, I woke up with one of those rare exceptions. I was in an office somewhere, and I think I was working there. (I've never worked in an office.) I was opening my mail, and a big manilla envelope morphed into a purse as I opened it, and I pulled out a white folder which, when I opened it, contained some loose cigarettes, some Doublemint gum, a folded handkerchief, a pale blue business card covererd in indecipherable writing, a book of matches, a roach clip, and two fat joints. I sat there looking at the joints for a couple of minutes, and then I woke up. To the best of my memory, I've never before dreamed about doobage. Although, since I don't remember most of my dreams, perhaps I dream about it all the time. I haven't seen an actual joint in over sixteen years. Very strange. Dreams. What the hell.