I ate some sauteed slivers of onion before I went to bed last night. It probably wreaked havoc on my stomach and my head.
I dreamt that my dad, my sister, and I decided to play in a lake of sludge. We walked through a barren field to get there. While we walked, I contemplated explaining adverse possession to my dad, but decided that it was not a good time.
We paddled a rowboat together with makeshift oars. Periodically, the three of us lost our balance and tipped into the water. As soon as my back touched the water, the boat shifted its weight and sent us bouncing back up, like Russian nesting dolls.
Later, I found myself in New York, eating dinner with classmates and old friends. At some point, harsh words were exchanged, long-standing feuds bubbled to the surface, and I beat someone up. The crowd huddled around us while I knocked the crap out of the poor guy. I felt like I could not punch him enough. He suffered permanent physical injury. I saw him later and he looked like a mess. I felt really bad and sorry. I woke up and I still feel really bad.