TT: Go on.
TG: i was in this dark place surrounded by this big flock of crows
TG: god this is so generically morbid
TG: im sorry in advance for exposing you to my unconscious minds retarded cliches
TT: It's ok.
TT: They wouldn't be cliches if they didn't comprise the unanimously understood bedrock of phallic symbolism, with no other viable interpretation.
TG: well obviously i knew the birds were just black screaming sky dongs just hear me out
TG: i kept dying
TG: there kept being these traps like i would go one way and get my head chopped off
TG: or go another way and get stabbed or whatever
TG: and every time i died the dream reset itself and i was standing there alive and ready to try to escape again
TG: but each time i would be watching myself from the vantage point of a different crow
TG: like i was the crow all squawking around in circles like a macabre flapping douche
TG: and i would always watch myself try to do something different to dodge the trap but i always ended up dead
TT: Well, if I've learned anything from my extensive skimming over the Wikipedia articles on dream analysis,
TT: It's that this dream is very unlikely to have any literal significance whatsoever.
TT: It's probably not about dying at all.
TG: you mean maybe its about anxiety over maintaining my blogs
TG: or that my beats might not be ill enough
TT: Yes. In fact, if you were on my couch that would have been my next question, as a licensed professional.
TT: "Mr. Strider, have you considered that what you actually dread is to have your urban rhythms exposed for what they truly are, which is, clinically speaking, just shy of 'da bomb'?"
TG: and then we crack up laughing cause we both know theyre fresher than your moms change of drawers and tighter than when shes wearin them
TT: Listening to you conjure imagery of my mother in her underpants is definitely keeping us buoyed high above this swirling Freudian hellhole.
TT: Well done.
TG: please its not like shes my mom i can visualize her choice ass all i want without it gettin much more than moderately uncomfortable for everyone involved
TT: What if you're wrong?
TG: about what
TT: Her not being your mother.
TT: Don't worry, you're probably safe. Luckily I can think of no literary or historical precedent for that sort of folly whatsoever.
TG: this isnt the first time youve insinuated were related what is up with that
TT: Isn't it?
TG: i mean
TG: im not sure
TG: i feel like youve brought it up before which is kind of weird but now i dont know
TG: i think im getting this weird deja vu thing where i was sure we talked about this
TG: forget it
TT: Why don't you tell me more about your dream?
TG: so i kept dying and kept being crows and stuff
TG: and then i started to notice something coming from the sky
TG: it was this faint eerie singing and i look up and theres nothing there just darkness
TT: That's interesting.
TT: I've read about this.
TG: what did you read
TT: Certain texts say singing from the unknowable void carries a message.
TT: That its recipient has been selected for a mission of supreme cosmic importance, that will result in your death and that of billions more.
TT: But one that is essential to the perpetuation of existence itself.
TG: what the fuck sort of crackpot psychology text would say something like that
TT: It's not from a psychology text.
TG: so then youre consulting astrology books now
TT: Not astrology.
TT: More like,
TG: oh my fucking god will you put that away
TT: Keep describing the dream, though.
TT: If the rest of it is incompatible with prognoses of the zoologically dubious, I will withdraw my insinuation.
TG: theres not even much more to it
TG: i looked up into the sky
TG: didnt see anyone singing
TG: but even though the sky was black i could see the sun
TG: it was bright as hell even through my shades
TG: so i flapped my wings and flew up away to it like a fucking piece of garbage
TG: and thats it
TT: This doesn't strike you as an impulse of self destruction?
TG: not in the sense that it was a dark sacrificial zoology mission
TG: it was more like somewhere to go besides watching myself die a lot from the vantage of a feathery murder of dumb shitty birds
TT: So, if hypothetically you were to accept such a mission, or even insist upon one, it wouldn't be in the spirit of genuine sacrifice, but of escape?
TG: what the fuck are you talking about
TG: ok somethings wrong
TG: this whole conversation is falling apart this isnt how it originally went at all
TT: Aw. We were making good progress, too.
TT: Why did you have to go and remember?
TG: this happened months ago
TG: does this mean im dead