If I could heal your wounds with words of love

I had possibly the weirdest dream last night. For some reason J.D. and I were going down a mountain with these humongous exercise balls. We were basically walking along with what I think were our colleagues? I don't remember exactly who they were, but I knew them in my dream. And then suddenly J.D. and I find a black bag in the ditch of the trail. Inside it was a whole bunch of bags with white content-- J.D. tasted a bit of it and confirmed that it was cocaine. And all of the sudden J.D. is whispering to me that we should smuggle it down the mountain and sell it to earn money. I don't remember the exact reason, but he needed the money for something important. I refused to do it, but we started arguing. And that's when I woke up, realised it was a dream, and said "what the fuck?". Anyway, these days it feels like the days pass by like seconds. I think John Green sums it up pretty good, but "What a slut time is. She screws everybody" (The Fault In Our Stars, p. 112). The next three weeks I'm basically staying glued to my bedroom. Or school. And it's hard because "praksis" is actually quite tiring, albeit it's so much fun and exciting. It's the most unpredictable job I've ever been in, and I've seen so many interesting things-- and this is only my fourth day. But I need to do school work now, and I think I'm going to devote my weekend to school work. I need to get in some kind of routine. On another note, I'm going to watch This Is Us in the cinema next Friday with my belieber friend, Kiwi, Marble, Sugar and her younger sister. I've also ordered their book that's got the same name as the stadium tour next year -- Where We Are. Anyway, I've got to go. Tschüss.