This will be an unofficial blog post, so no word of the day for you this time. I’d like to share the dream I had last night with you, and see what you think.

I dreamed that everyone in the world carried around umbrellas, and an evil magician was tinkering with them. Whenever her spell hit someone, they would look up and see a second umbrella inside the first, and just above them, holding the umbrella, an exaggerated and perverse version of themselves. I don’t know if anyone else could see what was inside the inner umbrella but them, but I do know it was what they thought others saw them as. Thought, or feared. Near the end of my dream, when I had somehow managed to solve whatever the problem was (I think it involved killing seahorse monsters? I don’t know man), I left the room hidden in my old church where me and the others were hiding, the walls of the narrow room covered with electric candles, and spoke to a man in the churchyard.

“All you have to do,” I told him, pointing up at his umbrella within an umbrella. “All you have to do to make that go away is realize that the real you is the one holding the outer umbrella. The version of you up there doesn’t exist. Maybe it did once, in parts, but now it doesn’t matter.”

He looks up, at his umbrella within his umbrella and the mangled figure inside. He looks like some sort of odd balancing act in a circus, the second figure a solid ten feet above him.

Meanwhile, we seem to have attracted some monsters, and I pull out my sword.