I took a nap, and had a dream that the backyard was full of chickens.

One was a little gold and orange tabby sort of chicken, which crowed a lot, and instead of a tail terminated in an oven mitt with “Kkiss” embroidered on it.

The majority were Rhode Island Reds, big glossy red chickens with green washes on the neck, wearing sheer burganidy boxer shorts. Unlike dreams populated by anthros, I wasn’t like “Hey, a chicken in boxer shorts, what’s up?” Instead, I was standing at the window going “HOLY SHIT, James, you gotta come look at this! A chicken in boxers! What the hell?!”

I have never thought I might have prophetic dreams, but occasionally I kinda wish some of ’em were.

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