this was more effective than temple's defense class

I'm not even going to pretend that I didn't just directly get this from weird dude energy

Some Entries From My Recently-Found 2008 Dream Journal

We were standing on the balcony outside a concrete brothel in a wooded district. Celebrities lounged against the rail, looking out at the river which had flooded over its banks. Eight-foot long brown fish could be seen swimming among the tree-trunks, and I turned to my companion and explained how "fish creep me out". We went inside.

The proprietor, a Chinese man, asked us who we were. Hesitant to use our real names, we rushed to come up with aliases. I blurted out a nonsense syllable and the man looked at me with suspicion. I hurriedly corrected myself, saying, "Sam...Samson, his name is Samson as he is so large, strong and blond". This in reference to my friend. I struck upon a suitable name for myself: "Rex Caprock". With that the man was satisfied. We went into the adjoining room (identical to the den of [the house I lived in in the 4th grade], but unrelentingly brown). Dinner was going to be served but I was growing antsy and we left.

I was walking down Porter St. with my brother and his friends. At first he thought we were going the wrong way but I insisted we were right. I really wanted some water ice, so I stopped at a place well-known for it, even though it was the wrong season. My brother and his friends kept going, I would catch up with them later. After I ordered my water ice a waiter came out with a terrible-looking plate of eggs and set them in front of me. I told them that wasn't what I wanted and he said, "Yeah. These are for me." Soon the whole staff were eating their dinners at my table. "After all," I thought, "they have to eat too".

~~~

A hint of the illicit; some vague crime.

I was a Russian soldier, with a rifle and a greatcoat. My best friend had just been killed and I was trying desperately to break my bayonet so the Americans would not shoot me. Soon they would crest the hill. I knew my friend had to be avenged, I was filled with rage and the urge to kill, I readied my knife and bayonet. I was trying desperately to break my bayonet so the Americans would not shoot me. They approached me and offered me a cigarette. I didn't smoke but I took it anyway and sucked on it feverishly. They told me it was time for me to be taken off and shot and I burst into tears. I was sobbing uncontrollably for myself and my friend.

I was in my cousins' front yard, looking at a handful of takeout menus. One had neither menu items nor any phone number printed on it. I knew that it was not real but was meant to honor the memory of the Russian soldier and his great humanity.

Let's Cleanse Our Palettes, Shall We?

We shall.