Two nights ago, I dreamt of coffee and cigarettes (no, not the underwhelming Jim Jarmusch movie).
The former I'm drinking a lot of these days, including two cups this morning (I would never have imagined myself as a coffee addict, but it has definitely come to pass). The latter I'm not partaking of anymore, and in the part of the dream I remember, I was halfway through smoking one when I suddenly realized that I wasn't supposed to be smoking anymore. Kind of like Julie's Jamaican beef patty story, except that mine was just a dream.
