My debate-addled mind has been inventing bizarre dreams again. Last night, two, coinciding with the (late) ties featured.
In the first, I am shot in the stomach by someone wielding a plastic, almost toy-like gun that uses magnetic rail technology to rapidly disperse tiny, yet lethal, bullets. My assailant, though he drops me, does not kill me. Which is bad for him when I come back with a higher caliber.
In the second dream, I'm living in Elma again. When I leave my Chevy running in front of the house, a stranger steals it--then, miraculously, drives it through the front door of the neighbors' house, presumably to hide it in the living room. As I wake up, I am jogging, gelatinously, toward him.
[Ties found here.]