Border crossings

I dreamt last night of slipping into a steampunk Thailand whose borders had been closed for a millenia, so long that they could no longer tell that my eyes made me an outsider. I walked through a bazaar full of helpful merchants, terrified of being discovered, testing the language that was our scholars' best guess at how pronounciation might have drifted.

In a completely unrelated dream, I also dreamt that I was in a car with Jesus and Judas, trying to smuggle them over the modern Canadian border to go camping. We lied to the border guards and I lied to Jesus, knowing how things were going to end but unable to tell him.

...we didn't bring enough rope to hang a bear bag.