Back to DreamCritique featuring today's coverage of last night's dream. It took place in the neighborhood where brief mingling set-up the gathering of three Soprano-like guys headed off to take care of business. We waited for the lead guy who was Gandolfini-esque to get into the car and one brother said to take Wendover to 3rd instead of Roosevelt Blvd. Right before doing that, I said "it's after 5 and the place might be closed" and a guy said "watch out for the ticks". I saw one and it crawled up on me as I was lying down, right into my open shirt. I shooed it off and it grew into a badger-sized animal running away. The guy looked at my chest and went "uh-oh" causing me to wake up.

What's that? Who's DreamCritique? Simply, it's just a Corner where a guy whose appearance resembles young Paul Newman and his mind is a la Woody Allen. His niche is that he uses a roomba-of-the-mind method to discern the essence of the matter. This approach levels the outcome au naturale resulting in the kind of conclusion like AGun in a wet t-shirt.

J wants me for a sunbeam, not the alpine but the Tiger.