Dream Journal

Max's eyes flickered open in the pre-dawn morning. He glanced over at the alarm clock and noticed that it was definitely too early to be up at the moment. He sat up and his feet hit the cold hardwood floor; he flicked on the light on the nightstand.

He grabbed the journal that was there and a pencil and began jotting down the remnants of his dream as it began to fade away from his memory. It was too bad that the dreams couldn't be taped and viewed over and over again to decode what they were trying to tell him, and it would be nice to spot the easter eggs as well. But a pencil and a journal was the next best thing.

A couple of quick sketches: one of a crow sitting on a fencepost with a pipe dangling from his mouth, another of a cat sitting on a rooftop overlooking the city, the last was a man with an eyepatch, a sort of David Hasselhoff as Nick Fury kind of vibe going on. Under each sketch he jotted:

Crow or Raven.... could be a Magpie.

Cat... or Trump? Hard to tell

Don't hassle the Hoff?