Tylenol PM will give you some freaked out dreams.
Saturday night I dreamed Cameron had eaten so mush that he was a ball of fat,
We had to wedge him in his high chair
He couldn’t move his arms, like the kid in Christmas Story, and his face was a bump on top of his spherical body.
But we kept feeding him, he wouldn’t stop eating.
Then it was an annoying Starbuck dream of people piling in and being rude, just as we were closing, running into the bathrooms and not getting up from tables, and more friends, and then just giving me eat shit looks when I told them to go.
People that come to Starbucks only in the winter are snooty.
“Dear, have you seen my beige turtle neck? Oh, and my isotoner gloves. I thought we might go to Starbucks for something hot and sweet but decaf. Or better yet no coffee what so ever, what do you think dear? Starbucks for something completely not like coffee what so ever? Of coarse I’ll have to see the menu. And study the menu. And ask as many questions as my mind can scramble together, as if I was writing a novel on the subject. But first, beige turtle neck or I’m not going.”
They aren’t like the junkie regulars who speak as the fast as the words can ticker tape across their skulls. These are pensive, miserable people looking for something “normal” to do when it is cold.