last night I had a really nice dream. i was about to go travelling to france on my own for some reason, and my mum comes in to tell me my sister has come to visit for a few days. she was 16 but still felt like my big sister. i feel like i told her i didn’t know if she loved me because i get worried and she said ofc she does. we just had a chat for a few hours and then before i left she got in a lift and it was like she was going back to heaven or something. was really nice to see her again. her birthday is in 3 days.. it’s so nice that i keep getting visits. it makes the reality of her not being around a lot easier to deal with because I know i’ll see her in dreams and stuff again :)

I dreamed I was Roland– young Roland, full of righteous fire. I was in New Orleans – or New New Orleans, or Old New Orleans, or some level of the tower where the towns look and feel like ours but aren’t, quite – with some people, but most notably with Cuthbert and Alain. A man tried to get us to sign a contract. I, knowing what he was, refused. The others were taken in; they used my back as a surface, scrawling their signatures dazedly upon the dotted lines.

I let them. It was their choice, after all. But when I saw that someone – I don’t know who, but someone – had attempted to scribble a signature where there should have been none, a signature upon the line labelled “Roland Deschain”, I snatched the contract from Cuthbert’s hands and spat invective into the contract-keeper’s face, ripping the parchment in half.

When I dealt death to someone – and I didn’t have guns, so I made do with whatever I could get my hands upon – at the moment of their death, they spoke truths. They spoke forgotten memories, buried memories, the story of the core of their being. We were in a bar, so I snatched a bar stool and cracked the contract-keeper over the skull, once, twice, and then stopped, the splintered wood quivering in my hand, as he began to tell his death-knell tale. (I don’t remember now what that tale is. Too bad, I bet it was a good ‘un.)

When I had bore witness, when he fell silent, I stepped out, to breathe, to collect myself. In the thick and balmy air, I went to run my hands through my hair and realised I was masked– I wore the mask of a cartoonish alien, a greyboy, and I had forgotten to take it off through that whole encounter. I snatched it off and did run my fingers through my hair then, before I went back inside to apologise to barkeep for his stool and to collect my brothers.

(The funny thing is, I don’t normally catch a glimpse of myself in reflections or anything when I’m dreaming. I have no idea what I look like in dreams. But in this one, one in which I was so clearly someone else, I looked exactly like my waking self.)

My mothers birthday is Sunday is there any way I could get something so I can take her. I had to use all my money to pay bills w nothing to spare for herself and she’s always doing for me and I want to take her out please help



this morning i woke up, i was stretching n i thought to myself ‘o i think i had a dream last night!’ so i sat up n was trying to recall what it was, right? n i was like 'o! i think it was a voltron dream! because i remember keith being there, but what WAS it, what did i dream about?’ n suddenly there it was in my mind, fuzzy bc i stink at remembering dreams, but it was there, the first dream i remember in a long time: I DREAMT THAT MEITHMAN WAS CANON. IM SO MAD. like season two came out n there was actually a mothman character n keith ended up w him, n i was so excited in the dream for some reason, n the meithman tag was trending on tumblr, n no one even knew what klance was, my username was justmeith, n i cannot believe this, WHO EVEN INVENTED MEITHMAN? seriously if someone knos please tell me so i can personally forward them this text post so they understand that their memes r invading my subconscious.

so… u guys heard it here first, meithman for season 2 #CONFIRMED, o my g, im so sorry for anyone who actually read all of this, carry on…..

I had a dream that some shady dudes in very stereotypical robber outfits (striped shirt,beanie, and….a  painted on black eye mask???) were waiting just outside of my house, barely hidden

so I called them out… and they just barged in my house even though it was broad day light and a bunch of people were there…but i couldnt scream because it was a dream

so I just casually cut off their heads with a little pocket knife. Except I was scared to be charged with murder/scared that the two robbers would come back to life…..and then a police car passed by so i just yelled at it and gave the (hot) police officer the two heads and he was like “thanks. be careful” and he drove off with the two heads in the car


also the police officer was literally driving..backwards…..like..he was facing the trunk of the car….but the car advanced normally,,,,,,

finally remembered a dream uhh

there was a war. somebody (american) got forgotten? abandoned? during said war with somebody on the Enemy Side who was significantly wounded. the heat could kill instantly for some reason and either that or the injuries are what made enemy guy (who was now friend?) succumb after some amount of time (enough for them to be friends), but american/guy story was following kept imagining he was there. possibly hallucination.

took shelter underneath a mat made of a collection of bones, rocks, and other stuff that was scavenged (including a dessicated dog corpse?). only company was ghost/hallucination enemy who kept calling him affectionate names (bud? pal?)

using the weird sun protection cover thing, crawled to an outpost and for some reason got cinsrsn ignored until he went into a tent. ghost/hallucination kept telling him to calm down and there was a fight. nobody believed him (i think a long time passed, that or everybody got wiped out.)

eventually they believed him and helped him home. he had an apartment overlooking a lake, enough to where (also hallucination?) gharial could crawl into his house and ask him how he was doing, what he was up to, if he was okay. gharial is apparently an old time friend, they exchange friendly banter.

goes down to get mail he’s missed. there isn’t much.

Anonymous asked epsee: you probably get this a lot, but I don’t think it would hurt to say that you’re one of my favorite artists! Thanks so much for drawing. love your dreamlogs <3 please have a nice day

aw, this is really nice. i hope you have a lovely day too!

Anonymous asked epsee: (im dying and the only cure is for you to open up a shop and sell cute little jesse pinkman stickers)

oh no, please don’t expire (you’re not the first to ask about br ba goods haha, i’ve been thinking about opening a shop come new year. /w\)

Anonymous asked epsee: Hello! Different asker here, but could you explain more about “post-processing” ? Your art’s really nice and I’m also curious to how you draw/color so pretty :)

hello! i still have the .psd for a recent post, so here’s a gif of the workflow. post-processing is all the little editing you do at the end after you’ve drawn out the picture. i mostly use this time to fix/add details (important: pizza steam) and darken/lighten parts