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The Other Life

December 1, 2010
It's the picture of Italian ice-cream in a sho...

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I had a batch of dreaming strangeness.  That’s normal.

I dreamed about ice cream.  I was in line at some schmancy new shoppe that all the suave people were agog about (no, this place does not exist).  There was a long ass line.  I couldn’t really decide what to get because, as is the fashion in a situation like this, I could not read the board detailing the day’s flavors.  The sparkly, tall girl behind the counter noted my apparent confusion and handed me a printed sheet.  It wasn’t that helpful.

All the while, my old roommate was crowing about whatever flavor he was having.  He was also unhelpful.  I was marveling at the only thing that I did discern, which was that the medium size serving was six and half cups.  Everyone seemed surprised that I found that on the large side.  I should know better than to debate serving size with ice cream zealots.  The girl behind the counter whispered to me that the small was the right size for immediate consumption and I asked her for something with chocolate ice cream.

To the best of my reckoning, there was a flavor based on Twinkies; a flavor with caramel, salt and some kind of nut; something in the realm of tapioca pudding; a cinnamon based flavor; and something that looked like it had pink swirls and those silver sprinkles people put on holiday cookies and cupcakes.

I never did get any ice cream.  I probably didn’t need it.

I also threw in a dream about being at university and, having found my professor with the help of another confused student (an olive-skinned, older woman with short, black hair and a raggedy looking satchel), discovered that we had missed the first class.  The professor had a crazy tangle of multi-colored hair and very dark eyes.  He informed us that it was up to us to determine where and when the next class was and that we would find him there.  He handed me a pamphlet and ran out into a crowd of people.  The pamphlet was full of scribbled spirals and notes in some Cyrillic alphabet.  I gave it to my new cohort.  She laughed and suggested we find some food.  Off we went.

I woke up long enough to chug some water at this point, then dropped back into my pillow.

Later on, I mustered up a dream that ended with a very large Samoan/Hispanic gentleman getting a sharp-edged two-by-four to the neck.  Lot of blood.  I should know better than to trust giggly blonde women.  At least I was chuckling when I woke up.  Right?

The middle part of that saga involved a beach, some books, losing my car keys and navigating a rickety back porch (the kind that is always collapsing and killing people in Chicago).  However, all of that nonsense was just a prelude to the great brawl that ended it all.  Do you think that girl brought her own two-by-four?

It’s best not to think too deeply about these things.  You might discover what it all means.  DUH DUH DUUUUH!

6 Comments leave one →
  1. December 2, 2010 3:08 PM

    i think it means you need more ice cream.

  2. December 2, 2010 11:37 PM

    That pic looks like a zombie murder scene. I hope you had fun.

    (I didn’t pay much attention to the the word part. I’m sure it was up to your usual standard.)

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