Bad Dreams Bad Grades Green Smoke

So when I went to the Univeristy of Floraida way back in '93 and then a little ways thereafter, it was a formative time when I failed out of college mostly due to beer and chasing (unsuccessfully) girls and weed. Volleyball, too. And I had some crummy jobs. Wings guy. TV DJ (VJ?). I fed snails. Sandwich artiste. My car was often breaking down - a 1974 VW Bug, baby blue and rusted out. Every person that appears in this tiny work has a real-lfe correlate who may even still be living. I have recalled the places I meant to recall and brought them up to be sure in Google Maps. They exist - I insist. I beat my post against the fist. Or, at least, they existed at some time before my superego twerked them out into a more nefarious and gameable version.

There is no way to fully grasp the thing within but if you read it, you may be inspired to insert some of the ideas into your own play, and such is the task laid out before me by XXXXXXX. The Florida of my youth and fancy, in my dreams, makes nightly incursions upon me still, and if you download and peruse some of this, it will incur upon you, also. Eventually.

A smoky campus on the edge of The Dreamlands, down the coastal road from Gn'aar and Marnath. To the south are the Coral Crypts, to the northeast is Witt's End. Every so often I find myself driving those back roads, worried about The Bug running out of gas, having it break down in the middle of the night, and nervously walking into