Had a dream I got away with murder.  It wasn’t fun or cool, just nerve-wracking and subsequently exhausting.

I was television’s Rahul Kohli (i wonder if i’m more apt to dream i’m a beardy actor if i’m going to scruff irl) and together with my friends I accidentally killed one of our cohort.  Even tho the whole squad plus an anonymous blackmailer knew it, even tho I was on the edge of tears and acting mad sus when anybody approached me, nobody ever quite seemed to figure what we’d done.

My fictional family randomly showed up at the murder scene while I was trying to hide evidence and wouldn’t leave.  I had a box of stuff sent by the blackmailer, that my dad kept trying to grab.  I almost yelled, “What do you want out of this?”  He said, “You know what I need.”  It was the children’s book my little sister insisted on having read to her at night.  The book had cryptic threats that the blackmailer had tucked in like bookmarks and I had to try to pull them all out before I handed it over, plus page thru to make sure nothing else was written on the pages.

Later my home boys were with me while I was trying to sort the evidence and one was looking thru my sketchbooks, which again had been annotated by the blackmailer.  I had to beg him not to look because the books contained personal art.  U know, sex stuff I was secretly into.

An FBI agent told me I was the prime suspect but by that point in the dream I was too emotionally exhausted to care.  I came back to the suboptimal place I’d stashed the blackmail box and tried to move it somewhere safer, but realized there were no guarantees.  I was doomed to live with the stress of possible discovery.

I woke up with the original version of Time Is On My Side stuck in my head – rather the opposite message of the dream itself.

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