As it was Full Moon, I had a weird dream. Most of it was just processing the day’s events, but some of it was not.
My cat was scratching at the screen, so my brain was trying to write Typescript to program the screen not to make a noise. Then Jody Wilson-Raybould and Michael Wernick showed up. I think my brain was trying to program them in Typescript too. So that part of the dream was just processing stuff that was happening.
Then I was at a house in the countryside (I think it was in England). A whole group of Indigenous people were there. I was chatting with one of them. I think his name was Johnny. We had a hug. Then they left.
I was worried that the hug was not genuinely an exchange of vulnerability from Johnny’s point of view.
Then I found a folded piece of paper and it had a poem on it which appeared to have been written for Johnny by an anthropologist when he was a child. I went outside to give it to him, and he invited me and Bob to travel to their homeland with them. I consulted with Bob and he said yes, so we set off with nothing but a toothbrush. I left a message for my parents with a friend who was also staying in the house.