The only time I’ve ever had a dream where I could read I was presented with a massive tome, “The Art and Philosophy of Garfield”. I flipped open to a random page, chapter opening entitled “Moving Away from Form and Meaning”, an exploration of Garfield’s defining features and how far they could be distorted or diluted before becoming unrecognizable. The title page had an image of a pattern of black and orange similar to Garfield’s but in a distinctly un-cat-like shape, with a speech bubble that contained the word(s)(?) “THISTLETHISTLETHISTLEBRRRBROWL”. I don’t have a fucking clue what my subconscious was trying to say with that one.