I had this dream recently—it was that night after I couldn't stop talking to myself all day and slept at 8pm, but i didn't tell you the next day because i was worn out from talking to myself—I was in a long-term prison, but I got the sense that I was a few years into my sentence and had somewhat adapted and I was walking with my crew .  I think of them as my friends but I wouldn't say that outloud.  So we're going up an escalotor, maybe there's four of us, two by two, and I'm trying to keep up with the conversation, but I can't make out the name of the guy they're talking about.  I try four times to make out the name, asking them to repeat it, but still can't make sense of the sound, so then I say,

"What did he say?  Tevez, or something...?"

"Vinnie, man.  Vinnie."

"What? Oh,  I don 't know any Vinnie."

"But you know a Tevez?"

It was pretty funny.

See the whole prison was like a mall, and it was big and well-lit, but the depressing thing was the glimpses of the sky through the ceiling glass, like it was unnecessary or irrelevant now