this is how long you can sit when you feel like shit

Before I get into the gory details I must share some of the dreams I have been having. I think it's due to the deet mosquito repellent I rub into myself morning, night and afternoon. Either way the dreams I am having are wild and so vivid, I wake up and wonder if it was real or not. The latest was great. I was outside of a house in a neighborhood just south of Trask on Beach Blvd. in Westminster, CA, where I live. I was standing with some people in the front yard and two indonesian guys came up and asked if I wanted to buy some cocaine. I said no and turned to the people I was standing with and told them I suspected it was guys sent by the Westminster P.D. trying to set me up. I split from that place and next I'm riding up to a bar on the Kill Yourself pan/shovel. I'm going to throw up right now so I will have to continue this later. Ok I'm back. So a group of guys pulls up on their newer bikes and I tell the bouncer, who is standing outside that I suspect it's the P.D. again and start rolling my bike back to split. The new guys ride up and take offense to this and block my way with their bikes. One guy gets off and grabs my arms from behind and the other guy steps up in front of me. I reach back and pluck out the eye of the guy behind me and then reach forward and do the same to the other guy. They lie writhing on the ground in the parking lot as I back my bike out and split. THEN I'm standing on a street with Drews and a 1960's Customline van pulls up, faded blue, and stops on the street. The side barndoors open and it is packed with the about 6 of the Hells Angels from all of the Roth Posters. Buzzard, etc. Buzzard jumps out and gives Drews a hug and pulls him into the van where I watch them all talk for a while. Drews then jumps out and pulls me up to the van. He says that the Pres has some words of advice for me. I look in and George Christie is sitting there among the older Angels from the posters. He motions me to jump in and I do. He looks me square in the face and tells me "Next time get some punches in. You pluck a guys eye out and it's all over. Where's the fun in that?" I agree and get out. I woke up thinking, "shit, did I poke a guys eye out last night?" I can usually trace my dreams to things that happened to me the previous days. I was wishing I could find a copy of the Deadwood series in Saigon so that takes care of popping the guys eyes out. I also came across a Vietnamese guy in the backpacker area who was totally covered in tattoos. I asked him if I could take a photo with him for posterity. He agreed and when I looked on his back, I was stunned. He's got no idea what the tattoo means at home. To him, he's just saying 'screw society'. That's only one of many really cool dreams I have had. Probably pretty boring to the reader but they are so vivid, I actually feel like I was in the van talking to these guys. It's crazy. The brain is so cool.