Lately, I've had some very bizarre dreams that I feel deserve to be written down in some form. First of all, the other night, I dreamt that I was in a Mexican restaurant with my roommate, Alan. We ordered flautas, which is one of my favorite Mexican foods. As I ate the flauta, I noticed that it tasted odd, which prompted me to go to the kitchen to find out what was the problem. It turned out that they had run out of regular flauta meat and were roasting robins, (yes, the birds) and then deep frying them in a tortilla. I was understandably upset, but somehow, the cooks convinced me that it was right and proper to eat roasted robins deep fried in a tortilla. Even Alan seemed to be enjoying them thoroughly. At this point, I left the restaurant and went outside where I ran into Barack Obama. At this point it gets hazy, but somehow, Obama and I travelled back in time to the 1950's in order to rob a bank. This was not done for any evil reasons, rather, somehow robbing this bank was the only way to save a man's life. It was wacky.
And last night's dream was not any better. It seems I was the American-born son of a South American diplomat and was kidnapped along with my little sister and taken to Mexico where we had to escape and struggle against many odds to make it back home. Also, this dream was entirely in Spanish. Fun, no?