I'm gonna start writing daily posts about my dreams and stuff. OK, this is the first time I've actually sat down and really thought about my dreams, so this'll be real damn illogical. Our story begins with us visiting a Jake Lee in a clothing shop. The exact make of the shop, I still don't remember. The lack of detail makes me suspect that it was some sort of outlet, but if it were an outlet, I'd remember some type of concrete floor since I've never been to a clothing store outlet that hasn't had a concrete floor. Anyways, Jake Lee is in this clothing shop, on his own, dressed in one of his trademark sporty-looking hoodies, a Brand New (the band, not the adjective, though in this case it does function as an adjective, but not in the "brand new" way, as in the shirt has the band name on it) shirt, and sweatpants. Jake is here to buy a pair of pants, as wearing sweatpants around is quite gauche. Jake finds a nice-looking pair of khakis, and, as he brings them to the cashier, notices a rack in the back of the story that's carrying bandannas. Bandannas. Of course, seeing something this weird, Jake feels the need buy one. I still have no clue whether or not this is means anything. Maybe I should buy a bandanna? Later, Jake's walking down the streets of New York City, near Yankee Stadium. He remembers that he used to see a lot of hobos down two or three blocks past the Stadium, so he goes there hoping to giveaway his recently-replaced sweatpants. When he gets there, there's nobody but a sad-looking fellow in a worn santa claus outfit, desperately shaking a bell, praying for Jake to give to the needy. Jake obliges, happily giving the man the sweatpants, when a wild cop appears! (by appears, I mean that suddenly there's a guy who looks a lot like Hernandez and is wearing lots of blue and has weaponry) After some handcuffing and explaining, Jake learns that the hobo was actually a police officer, the whole set-up was a sting operation, and apparently BOSTON (where the fuck am I?) has a rule against helping people. Of course, Jake kicks the cop, swearing at him and asking about constitutional rights, when the cop also mentions that mentioning the constitution is illegal, and Jake gets shot in the throat for being a menace to society. In case you've never been shot in the throat (I never have, I'm going off what my dream's told me), it's a lot like a window shattering. Imagine that your entire body is made of glass, and everything below your face spontaneously shatters. Now, imagine that you feel every crack, and every small piece of your glass body fall away. Apparently, that's what it's like, being shot in the throat. Now, it's quite obvious Jake is dead at this point, and he knows it. Spontaneously, the officer, santa-dressed-hobo-thats-actually-a-cop, street, and sky all fade away into white. Jake notices that his body is completely unharmed, except that he somehow lost all his clothes and is standing in about a foot of broken glass. Not just any broken glass, though. Jake is standing in nothing but shattered test tubes, and its really hurting his shins and feet. He can see that the glass further away from him is finer, and about two hundred feet from him, the glass has the consistency of sand. Jake painfully drags his feet through the glass, until his feet are torn from under him. Upon falling, most of Jake's body gets shredded, and he is forced to lie as still as he possibly can, for if he were to try getting up, he would just cut himself more. Fortunately, I only had to lie there for a few minutes; I woke up after that. In retrospect, this is probably the worst dreamcast I'll have ever written, not only cause I suck at writing, but also because I don't remember jackshit about this dream and I couldn't provide a narrative and just kind of said shit. Bye for now, The Supplanter.
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