i remember eating mushrooms. i hate mushrooms. but in the dream i was sorting them out and waiting and waiting for people to pick them from the buffet and no one was so i started eating them. perfect spotted whole mushrooms. and i loved them. that’s all i remember of that one. another, less happy, dream of helping my baby daddy escape from the police. allowing him to hideout with us even though we’ve had our past, probably a restraining order. but deep down he’s a good guy and doesn’t deserve this. and our son is happy to have this time with his father that he never really knew. when he is at school i take the father miles and miles and states away. to the woods of montana or something and we stop at the end of a dirt road leading into the trees and and before he gets out he stabs me with a pocket knife deep in my stomach. and then he does it again. and i know i’m going to die and i’m not angry. he’s got to cover all of his bases and i’m the only one that knows where he’s going. he can’t take that chance. i understand.