This is an open and unfiltered diary-style journal
on the life of James Robert Smith.
This blog will contain sometimes graphic experiences (both beautiful and ugly),
sometimes stark insight, and all honest and factual documentation of dreams, diet, activity, and thoughts.
Waking up next to Ana from a heavy sleep. I dreamt I was a
criminal of some kind in a gang of three. Three other criminal guys posed as a
maintenance crew visiting the house to fix something with a refrigerator. For
some reason I already knew what they were up to but my buddies didn’t. We were already
being watched by police or detectives. I walk outside and nonchalantly explain
that these maintenance guys are killing my friends and about to place a bomb in
the house. Later on, after the dust settles, I continue living in the house and
it’s understood my mom is still alive. She walks around in her slippers and
night gown but constantly is having problems like tripping over steps and
falling. It becomes quite stressful.
Cereal with Blueberries and Almond Milk. Tea.
Catching up on business.
Chores.
Scrambled Eggs. Zucchini. Toast with Butter and Jam. Potato
Chips. Cold Brew Coffee.
Teaching lessons at Music Makers.
Leftover Pasta with Brussel Sprouts, Mushrooms, and Salmon.
Catching up on business.
Playing DOOM.
At the studio practicing drums, piano, and restringing a
guitar. Meanwhile, Ana practices in another room.
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