Sharon and I get high and talk about resurrecting Big City Graphics

Before Sharon made her appearance last night, I remember I was riding a motorcycle with a fat guy who was kind of a Gomer Pyle type. We were doing some remedial training on a small street where some kids were setting up for Halloween with their yard displays and getting ready for the tricks and treats. 

I felt a bit unsure on the bike, as did my fat friend. Up and down the street we went, with me following him to be sure he was being safe. But someone was following after me, and not with good intentions. 

As I made a turn too wide, I wound up on the sidewalk and found a small but determined automobile bearing down on me head on, about to engage me in a game of chicken. I decided at the last minute not to swerve, even though being on a motorcycle, this was a stupid move. They clipped me, and I almost went down, but I managed to escape with only minor damage. 

Damn those trick or treating hoodlums, anyway.

After that I saw Sharon. She was sitting on a quad and smoking a joint, which she handed to me. I took it and we passed it back and forth, both of us taking way too many hits. At some point the one joint had become two, and so we were just trading them, without getting a break. I told Sharon that I was way too high. I could actually feel it in the dream. 

She got off the quad, and we sat down in a garage that had a bunch of my uncle's old screenprinting stuff stored there. It was in a state of disarray, but looked as if he had left off with a messy and disorganized job and it had just sat there for 5 years or so. 

Sharon got the idea that we should resurrect the business and begin printing posters for Chico State. She said she'd been on the phone with them and that they wanted to repeat one of their previous orders and perhaps get some new ones going. 

I told her the myriad reasons why this was impractical and preposterous. The materials were all old and dusty. The ink was surely dried up. Even if I could somehow manage to pull it off and get the ink to flow through the screens and onto the paper, I would need them to provide me with new art, create new screens and etc, etc. I just didn't want to do it. I was never good at producing a quality product to begin with. 

She argued with me about this for a little bit as I picked up an old nylon string guitar with broken tuning pegs and attempted to play it. It sounded terrible, but then I was still high. 

I considered giving in and calling Chico State to get the order going. It wouldn't be bad being back in business in the laziest, most pot friendly work environment I'd ever known. I could almost feel those sunny Chico days returning, as I mulled over the idea.