It’s a dreadful, dreadful thug
We welcomed back the frightfully vivid dreams last night with another episode, this one featuring me and my job.
In the dream, I had gone out on Sunday night to the Cafe (http://www.cafesf.com/main.php
), but a much seedier version of the Cafe, and gotten piss drunk. As the night progressed into morning and I got more smashed, I went to my office, which also doubled as my hotel room (?). And then I proceeded to shout random expletives like (and I just don’t get this one), "You fucking bleeding heart liberals!" down the hall.
Then there was something with a video arcade in the basement with this dalmation who almost attacked me before deciding it wanted me to adopt it, and me returning to my hotel room to find all these old clothes of mine in the drawers, and being informed by my friends about what an ass I’d made of myself.
I then proceeded to do damage control, and compose an email of apology to my manager–no, I mean, I had it all actually written out in my head to send wheeeeeeen…
…I woke up suddenly around 6:00 am, grateful as FUCK that it had just been a dream.
Interpretations?
