What would he even say, he wondered. Hey, uh, had a dream my two horny, back-stabbing douchebag roommates were trying to save a bird and also there were wolves or something, and also I couldn’t talk. Sure, sounded super important. Sounded absolutely dire. He’d do what he always did: sit on it until he could figure out what it meant, if it really even meant anything at all. For all he knew, it could have just been some cryptic vision about how his friends suck and would sprint past him to get whatever it was they wanted, leaving him for dead. It could have absolutely been that simple,
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