The other night I dreamed that I stored Rico in a bag full of water with my fish to transport him to another house. When I arrived at that place, Rico was a black cat and he was… not so much alive anymore.
Why is logic always so flawed in dreams?
Last night I think I must’ve dreamed he was a giant, because when I walked past the living room today, I noticed him lounging on the couch and thought, “Hey, you look different than the last time I saw you…”
