“Holy fucking shit. An INK reunion,” I said through my puckered lips. “We’re going to do a new album called Grown Men or something and we’re doing it on our terms. Just don’t tell Isaac. Yet.” “We gotta write this down,” I said frantically. “It’s in my dream journal.” His hands dropped and he began to stand up as the rest of the cast and crew filed out. “You have a dream journal?” I asked. “Is that something I’m supposed to be doing?” “Yes, I have one and if you ask me about it when I’m sober, I’ll probably lie. And yes, you should have one. It’s life-changing.” I followed him out of the
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