Northridge

I was such a hero in my dream!  Guys, gather 'round, gather 'round, I had another dream.  And here I was today, sad before bed, because I was certain I'd never come up with new material again.  Kids, this was a using dream.  A using dream, is when you have a dream, and in your dream, you want to use drugs.  The dream took place in the city of Northridge, at the college campus.  I know the dream was situated at CSUN because I pass by there once a week and today I was thinking that CSUN has a lot of Asian kids and a lot of good ass places to eat, and how Asian girls love to eat but they stay so skinny!  

In my dream I was a student on campus, and it was 1:30AM.  I called my dealer, and when we were trying to set where to meet on campus, the call kept breaking up, and my dealer was fat.  In my dream, talking to my dealer over the phone, I was aware that he was heavyset.  The call kept breaking up and we couldn't arrange our spot, so it gave me time to walk back to my car and think it over.  I only had a week, and I knew I was about to throw it away on impulse.  I had made a lot of stupid commitments for that weekend.   I thought of perhaps getting a motel in Northridge after I scored and turning off my phone, and no one would be the wiser!  Then I started wondering about the prices of rooms in this city.  As I walked to my car,  and I guess I walked passed my dealer and his friend and he said how he didn't like giving me drugs before I had to make my presentation in class; I was thinking, What do you care, you fat dealer?  You sell me the drugs when I say.  But no transaction occured, and the drug aspect kind of disappeared from the dream.  

Next thing I knew I was standing by a plant and talking to a beautiful young woman on campus, who I think was tall, skinny, and Asian.  She was flirting with me, but kept hinting that she was anxious about meeting her boyfriend, who was going to be unpleasant, I take it, so we started holding hands.  I decided I should walk her back, because by now it was 2AM.  She continued flirting with me, which made me wonder if I should call my dealer after parting with her; then as I was walking her, we stopped so we could make out, naturally.  We made out a little, she let me grab her ass—she had a great ass—and I said bye to her as she went up the escalator to meet her boyfriend.  That's when I saw a hostile man accost her at the top of the escalator, grab her roughly by the arm, and lead her into the shadows upstairs.  Then another man accosted me, at the foot of the escalator—it felt more like a shopping mall at this point—a fat, heavyset, Persian man.  He said things to tune of, What Do You Think You're Doing?  And You Stay Away from Her!  And I said, Don't tell me what to do, you fat Persian man.  He was the best friend of the violent boyfriend.

Then the girl ran back down to me, and now she was black, holding her wrist, which her boyfriend had broken.  She came to me, and the best friend again accosted me, so me and the best friend went at it—we duked it out!  After I got a few good shots on him, he fell onto a glass coffee table behind him.  I put my arm around the girl, a victim of domestic violence—she was probably the cute black girl I saw at Popeye's this evening, who ignored me—and I led her away to the security booth some ways across campus.  Getting there, another black lady, in a red security jacket, said to me, You know, accidents happen.  I got her message loud and clear, and replied smugly, Do accidents happen?  Or do accidents happen when someone doesn't want to fill out any more necessary paperwork?  I laid it on nice and thick for her.  And in that way, I awoke, feeling like a hero.  I loved how the glass coffee table appeared at the right moment.  Today, I'll probably take my lunch in Northridge, where I expect to be received well.