saucisson sec + beer (2)
Meat does strange things to my subconscious mind. So does alcohol.
After a nice night out, I dreamt about coming home from a nice night out--fitting, I suppose. While joking with my friends about something or other, I notice a ton of police cars with lights flashing and blocking off a section of the street by my apartment. There are enormous crime scene tents set up, lit by the red and blue flashing lights.
After explaining to a cop that I live on the block, I see a young rookie struggling to control a tiger on a leash. The tiger looks extremely pleased, blood smeared all over its maw. It looks at me and begins to vocalize in a very high-pitched voice, like a mewling kitten.
Fast forward to the next day. I’m touring a garment factory (this is apparently my dream job). As I walk through rows upon rows of humming sewing machines, workers dutifully stitching, I notice a bird flittering about. All the workers appear to want to feed and pet the bird. Some give it crumbs, and others have bird baths on their desks.
I ask my tour guide about this odd inhabitant. “Oh, well, that’s our only pet left now,” she responds. “Last night our tiger escaped and ate our lamb.” This deeply worries me. I feel that there is a great injustice in the untimely demise of this factory’s unlikely menagerie.
Sensing my anger, the tour guide adds: “It’s okay. It was all Congress’s fault and they will be fired for it very soon.” A wave of relief washes over me.
I continue on my tour to see some extra large auto loom machines in action.
