Pot House in the Woods

The sun is out, but hidden by the trees. I am in a house in the woods with a friend of mine and a friend of his. I walk into the room where my friend’s friend has been. There is a large bag of marijuana on the floor. It would appear to be about a pound. I look at it with a slight wonderment. I can see patches toward the top of bag with a reddish-gold coloring. I am in pursuit of a bag of marijuana for a friend of mine. I step, barefoot onto a bud on the ground. It sticks in the bottom of my foot like splinters. I pull larger groupings of splinters out and then they are all gone. My friend’s friend holds his phone at eye level. It is dark outside now. He talks about radio signals in the air and says, “Something funny is going on.” I know from his tone, police are monitoring us, perhaps planning a raid. I awake later in bed in the next room. My friend’s mom arrives shortly after this. She is angry: “I can’t leave and trust you won’t interrupt the space-time continuum!” I say we did nothing to do with time. My friend says, “That’s not completely true.”

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