Well, well.

That fiend, REM, trespassed on my slumber once again.  Of course, coherency was out of the question.

I was an accomplice in a quadruple-homicide.  My associates: the “M13” gang.  The butchered bodies were double-bagged at tossed into the trunk of an old vehicle (an Oldsmobile comes to mind.)  My final task was to carry the four bags into a hotel room without being spotted by the police or rival gang members; but, suspected members of said rival gang arrived before I could make the move.  A swarm of M13 members and I ran into the hotel for cover.  As I ransacked the corridor, I realized I didn’t know where I was going.  I scanned the doors and the room, 707, made sense to me.  The door was unlocked.  I stumbled in and found myself in a labyrinth.

Now, the gang reference is easily explained by a story I heard that night involving a gang with a similar name; the rest exists as cryptic scrap metal for my amusement.

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