Defense Against the Dark Arts
I had a dream that was set at a place I understood to be the university I attended, but it looked like the hotel from The Shining. The dorm rooms looked like the type of sparse, road-side motel rooms featured heavily in episodes of The Alfred Hitchcock Hour.
I seemed to be with my high school class, which was multiplied into a lot more people—but I knew them all. We were competing in some cookie challenge right out of a Food Network reality show. My group won the first part, but then we all had other things to do.
I went to ride a bike without shoes on, and could only stop with my bare feet. Then I was suddenly walking with shoes on into a large room where everyone was working on the challenge.
I got yelled at for my group not working. I said we all got called away for other things. Just then, literaryfirearms showed up (she did not attended my high school or college) to defend me. She said “I had to go to Defense Against the Dark Arts because that’s the only art class we have.”
Then I woke up.
the notebook problem: you see a notebook. you want to buy the notebook. but you know you have like TEN OTHER NOTEBOOKS. most which are STILL EMPTY. you don’t need to notebook. you’re probably not gonna use the notebook anyway. what’s the point? DONT BUY THE NOTEBOOK. you buy the notebook.
I did a pokemon shaming thing