I had a nightmare the other night. I was an escaped slave, trying to make my way out of Louisiana. I was tailed by the cops. I couldn’t use the road or the riverbank, and was instead running through all the ferns and undergrowth or whatever. Plants. Big leaves. I was getting all cut up.

I passed through this one guy’s land and I overheard him talking to the cops. The cops said that they were looking for a runaway slave, and he said they couldn’t search his land without a warrant. Thanks, dude! A sympathizer, probably!

But I passed through and onto this other guy’s land who was NOT a sympathizer. They had a gallows there, and a poem hanging by the gallows indicated that you would definitely be hung on the gallows, and you’d probably be better off if you hung yourself there, because if they found you they would not be merciful.

When I woke up, I decided that I was too hot. I opened the window and turned up the fan. Goodbye, Louisiana!