It's late at night and I walk into a Burger King to get something to eat. I wait in line and when it's my turn to order the guy behind the counter won't bring me the right thing. I keep saying "No! I asked for a number 1! You know, a Whopper meal!" but he keeps bringing me other items from the menu. I finally get so frustrated that I start yelling at the guy and slamming my tray on the counter. Then I leave without my Whopper meal.

I walk down the street a little way, and I see a palm pilot store, so I go in to buy a cradle for my Palm Vx*. I go in, and its like a fast food joint! A counter with a bunch cash registers and guys behind it, and lots of people waiting in lines. I get in line, and when its my turn to order the same thing happens. I say "I want a cradle for a Palm Vx" and they keep bringing me Palm VIIs and stuff like that. I get frustrated again, and a manager notices and comes over.

"Sir, please calm down" he says. "Now, what do you want to order?"

"A god dammed cradle for my Palm Vx!" I say.

"Excellent sir, I just need to ask you some questions to complete your order." he says. "How much ram does your Vx have?"

"4 megabytes†" I say.

"Good, now how many megahertz is the processor?"

"I don't know! 33?"

"No, sir it's 51‡, if you had brought your Palm with you, I wouldn't have to ask these questions."

I leave the palm store without my cradle.

I'm walking on the street again back towards my house, when I come across a Wendy's. I go in and see the perfect meal for me, a nice burger with loads of toppings and these fries that seem to me multicolored or something. I get in line...

...and I wake up with 5 years by Björk running through my head. Weird.

* Which I had lost in reality over a year ago.
† In reality, the Palm Vx has 8 megs or ram.
‡ I have no idea if this is correct.
For some reason, I absolutely had to get a large amount of frozen bread products from a wholesale club. There was something else I needed to get, too. I think maybe it was some secret agent spy-type gadget, but I don't remember now.

Anyway, my brother and I embarked on this mission, which was of the utmost importance. For some reason, the wholesale club was in the middle of the ocean, so we had to take a boat. But it wasn't a motorboat or anything; it was a little dinghy that we had to paddle.

When we got close enough to see the wholesale club, which looked like a giant replica of Chris Rock's head, we had to get out of the boat and swim the rest of the way. It was at this point that I realized there were counter-agents following us (actually, they were right next to us, but they weren't really doing anything), who were trying to kill us and get the frozen waffles before we did.

We finally got to the place, and entered through the gap in Chris Rock's teeth. When we got inside, it turned out to be this place that just looked a lot like a residential kitchen.

I went over to the fridge and opened the freezer. There were about three things inside: a small (not wholesale sized) box of Eggos, a box of French toast sticks, and a carton of ice cream.

My brother and I scrambled for these frantically, even though there was no one else even trying to get them.

I turned to my brother.

"Now we just have to get the--"

And then I woke up.

First dream - I dreamed I drove in my white and black art car to M.'s apartment and parked in front. In the dream, he was really fat, over 100 pounds overweight, not like he is in real life. We were walking across the lawn, talking, when some kids threw a couple of rocks in our general direction. I thought at first they were targeting my car, so ignored them for a moment. Then another one flew a little closer and I realized it was directed towards M. He remained oblivious.

I got really mad, right away, put down whatever I was carrying and started running towards the kids, ready to beat them up for making fun and attacking my friend.

Second dream - My son was in jail. His dad was on the phone with me explaining how he had gotten caught stealing 8 cases of beer (he doesn't drink) and several pounds of crack absurd. Both charges were clearly trumped up because he is a young black man. Horrified, I listened as I looked at a security photo of him in a cage. His dad then said he could be held for up to five years before trial. At that point, I screamed aloud and woke myself up. The dream was very vivid and I'm still upset from it.

I was wearing Army boots. I don't think I've ever had on a pair of Army boots in my entire life. I was walking down some dimly lit alleyway in a very large city. Yeah, probably Little Italy in New York. I could smell Italian food.

Each time I passed a cross street, the light from the street lamps was folded in upon itself. An envelope of light with the suggestion of brightness, but no real brightness at all.

The child, perhaps seven or eight years old, was standing in front of a mixed group of people. I believe they were holding him there. For me.

His eyes were dark and he wore an old flannel shirt, half tucked into his corduroy pants. He looked down at my feet. I could hear him ask me, "Are you in the Army?" His mouth didn't move.

I thought, "No. I don't know why I have on these boots." He understood me.

And then I knew why I was in this place. This little boy knew the answers I wanted ever so badly. And, just as I realized this, he looked up at me and smiled.

On his forehead I noticed some letters written in what appeared to be yellow highlighter. It was hard to read them with just the dim light in the alley. I drew closer to the boy's forehead. They were written backwards! That's why I couldn't read them!

The backwards letters said, "tsehc sih no s’tI" I thought that I would ask him nicely if he would take off his shirt. He began unbuttoning the flannel shirt, and then opened it up to expose his little boy chest and belly.

And there it was, written in black fine-tip magic marker. It was a paragraph of about sixty words. I read it, and a flood of calmness washed over me. Finally, I understood. How could I have not realized this before? I had been close several times in my life, so close, and yet I was never able to put the pieces together. There it was.

I was squatting down now, at eye level with the little boy, and I looked up from reading and into his eyes. He knew that I now knew, and he also knew that he knew. He had wanted me to know.


I woke up about an hour before I usually get out of bed. I laid there for a solid hour, trying my best to recreate each section of the dream, in order to remember what was written on the little boy's chest. The more I tried, the less clear it became. I finally gave up. Not one word came back to me.

I went downstairs and made coffee. My wife had left the newspaper lying on the kitchen table. It was open to the comics, and the horoscope section is on that page in our paper.

I never read the horoscope, but while the coffee was brewing, I glanced at mine for the day. I swear to God that this is what it said:

The answers to your problems will be found in your dreams.
Yeah. And I guess that's where they're going to stay, too.

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