Last Night's [Sex] Dream

I was asked by the F.B.I. to go undercover and help them out with some heavy mafia shit in the tiny town of Las Vegas, NV.

It started with me driving [in the style of Sega's 1980's arcade classic, Out Run] my much older dad around in my cool, red covertible and dropping him off at the DMV or the clinic. Something not fun. He had a cane and was balding.

So I go to pull the job in some casinos and just as shit is hitting the proverbial fan and I'm being followed by gangsters and I'm running around with some pretty Latina, I realize that I am no other than a young Elvis Presley.

I very rarely dream in celebrity.

So there I am, on the brink of intel and espionage and the chase, getting down with some hot chick.

All in all, it was a pretty awesome dream.

My biceps hurt

But I'm glad they're still there.
Actually, the thing/s that surprisingly hurt the most since I started hitting the gym are...my hands.
Apparently, they've been pretty stress-free albeit helping people move.

Last night, I dreamt that me and this nerdy chick that liked me in high school were getting married and we were pretty stoked, staying at a house on the lake with all of our friends, until someone/thing came to stalk and murder all of my wedding guests one by one. My bride, who became hotter and blonder throughout my dream (morphing into my celebrity crush, I presume: Kristen Bell), and I were about to break free in my dad's old 69' Ford pick-up (weird) until we had to cross a flooded bridge. Which, of course, was flooded by the evil, flesh-eating lake, a la Creepshow, from whence the killer no doubt originated. Needless to say, we both drowned and died and I woke up to my groaning/mummering in fear.

Welcome, first day of fall.