Sunday, July 11, 2004

quesadilla = pesadilla

after seeing fahrenheit 9/11 last night at the century, we went to cafe el tapatio on ashland for dinner... at 9 pm. combating indigestion, we went straight to fitful, hallucinogenic sleep:

dream #1: this dream came in the middle of the night. i am in an unfinished basement in someone's house when i see what looks like my dad wind up for the pitch and severely bitch-slap my little sister, clutching her shirt. i see my mom running up the stairs. i wake myself up hearing my partially sleep-paralyzed mouth yell "monster!" aloud. it was so vivid and just shocking. [to clarify, my father never hit any of us.]


dream #2: this dream came after waking and going back to sleep, still feeling rotten... and man, it gets weirder. i was in some dining situation with casey and other guys and waiting for a dish that was touted in maxim magazine. this manly breakfast delicacy was called "trout". it was a large oval platter heaped with steaming chocolate cream of wheat with a pie-slice shaped trench at one end. the trench is then filled with maple syrup, in which the chef drops a live fish, about three inches in length. the trench is then partially covered with a hot slice of canadian bacon which is topped with fried egg.

when the platter was brought to the table, the fish suffocating in its pond of maple syrup was swimming, splashing, and thrashing about, trying to throw off the egg and meat trap. the guys were like, "aw, cool!" i was completely horrified and woke up.


moral: don't eat mexican food and go right to sleep [especially if you're a vegetarian feminist with a strained father-child relationship.]

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