It happened again.

I woke up, with my dreams fresh and vivid in my mind, and still felt no urgency to get up and write them down. Not sure why, but I highly suspect that this time it was simply because I was tired.

Still, let me put down what was left.

I had killed someone, I remember that much.

I was hiding the skull in a rock wall, behind some cement, but the rock and mortar that I put in front of it kept falling off in the rain. It was then I decided that I had to run.

There were other people involved, I know that much, but I do not really recognize them. They lived in the large, opulent house that owned the rock wall where I was trying to hide the corpse.

I went up to my room to gather my things in a suitcase (which was actually my real suitcase that I have in real life) and ran into them. They were the standard Chico-clad Botoxed blonde middle aged ladies, and some stereotypical bald headed smiling Black men of indeterminate West Indian descent.

They had cupcakes in the fridge, that I had made, and they loved them and wanted to share them with me. However, they had been made with my pee (let’s not yet get into that), yellow frosting and all. Needless to say, I did not want any.

I packed up and left – apparently I was on a resort. There was a cabana party of some sort, I stumbled through dragging my suitcase, and again more people approached me about cupcakes – could I make more?

All the while I knew there was a corpse hidden on the property, and I had to get away before it rained and that rock fell out of the wall again. The skull had been unusually white, and substantial, more like a sleeping stone face. I remember owning a ring with a face like that (as many people have, it was a standard rock cutting design for gemstones in the late 90’s, I should bring those back, especially if they’re going to suspend tariffs on Chinese imports) I don’t remember putting it in there, just trying to hide it. There was moss on the rocks – how long ago had I put it there?

I woke up at 11:38, but slept until 4:43. My ex called at 2:53

My childhood home had a rock wall. I can’t remember if I ever hid anything there, but knowing me, I probably did. Maybe I lost a ring out there – knowing me, I probably did.

I finally got out a piece of professional writing (not mentioning specifics) last night, the reason that I was up until sunrise and slept through most of the day this time. I can’t say it’s perfect, but I can say it’s ok. My difficulty comes at the end, where I’m forced to talk about myself, and why I am qualified to carry out the research. This is why I have such a difficult time writing these things.

I have lived almost all of my life under an array of false names. My real name pulls up very little info, anywhere, and therefore I do not look qualified to do much. As a matter of fact, most of the people that I am sending this to for final checks and peer review do not know my real name.

This is a problem.

Strangely, I’m having a hard time articulating to myself why this is a problem. I really enjoy my anonymity, and honestly am not going to break it for this. I will just send it out without those last 2 paragraphs for peer review. They will ask, and I will not answer.

Last night’s dream came true – the food bank closed today.

I haven’t been to a supermarket in years.