Daal, dating, and hidden Nazis

It was a religious holiday, and Dadi gave me a very large, deep tray of different kinds of beans, rainbow colors,  that iI had to run through a small device to puree. Guests were coming over soon so I had to hurry. Then Farhad and someone else took the giant tray away and I was so surprised it didn’t slosh over the side. The unknown guests finally arrived and this was the only thing we were going to serve, not even samoosas. 

I was dating a large pasty man, and we had an ok first date but there was not really any chemistry. We had to sleep in a tiny apartment with a tiny door that was being lent to us by a friend of the pasty man. I figured it was ok to keep dating him because he wasn’t terrible, although I wasn’t particularly having any fun. I asked him what he did to get into Yale, and he immediately performed a long musical act with backup singers and dancers that explained how hard his life was with a mean ex-wife and leaving behind three children to come to college. This backstory was a surprise. He was exhausted afterwards and then told me he knew it wasn’t going to work out with me, so I had to leave through the tiny door. He told me he’d share a ride with me back to Old Campus. I then couldn’t decide if I should join a dating app and look for a white guy with brown hair, as Farhad had recently told me he didn’t want to take care of me when I got old and sick. 

There was a large parade for a holiday, and an acquaintance of mine was going to be in the show. We were waiting for the parade to start, and another friend took me to a small schoolhouse where the second floor had a bathroom. We had to wait to use what was called “Tiffany’s Bathroom”, which was quite nice and had an Asian theme. We waited in that building until someone told us it was safe to come out, because apparently there had been a bit of shooting outside. We came out waited for the parade to begin, watching a small tv screen that scrolled the lineup of all the acts that would be in the parade. My acquaintance was horrified to see that his group was not on the agenda. At that moment, the shooting started. Everyone performing in the parade was systematically mowed down by a spraying stream of bullets coming from a group of people in the back of the parade, dressed in rags and some as muslims. The bodies fell slowly, angling together onto the ground. It because clear that this group in the back with guns was actually Nazis hiding in plain sight.

Work and Play in Turkey

 I was in Turkey doing some sort of work rotation. The work I was there to do was unclear, but the whole situation was obviously sketchy, and I needed to get out of there. 

I was assigned a boyfriend, who was hot, and people said he had a huge dick. He was all over me and needed a lot of attention. Even though he was hot, I was not really interested, mainly because I realized this was all some sort of trap. I had found online evidence of a pre-existing letter that stated I had failed the rotation due to malpractice/poor performance. It wasn't sent yet, but I knew it would be at the end of the rotation. 

I had a cell phone but had to hide it since it was way nicer than the phones they had in Turkey. But first, I had to make it through a vodka-fueled party. The party was loud and crowded, and at the beginning we all went swimming in multiple humid and hot indoor pools that were connected on different floors. After that, it was mostly drinking and foreign games that involved people standing in different patterns and saying things in languages that I didn’t understand. The guests told me that, as a foreigner, that I would need to water down the vodka to make it through the party, but I knew I would barely be able to drink any at all before feeling sick. I didn't want to tell them this since it would show how old I was. 

Someone had put out a nice box of cookies, and I ate one without realizing that there were hallucinogens in them. Once someone told me this, I thought I was fine and that they were kidding, but then I started seeing people’s bodies partially disappearing and turning into flesh-colored blobs. I kept waiting for when they would all start drinking bottles of vodka, and it never really happened, though my boyfriend did have a big plastic jug of something like MDMA that he was mixing into water for everyone to drink. 

I kept fending off various suitors, male and female, and angering them with my rejection, all while hiding my phone and making sure it wasn’t going to fall out of my coat. My boyfriend was the one assigned to everyone that had come in for this rotation, and though I could tell he really liked me, I knew he had also really liked all the other girls before me and that this was really a job for him. I kept trying to think of a way to escape, but didn't come up with anything. 

 The Dunfey Hotel

My father was somewhere in the Dunfey Hotel at the Dunfey Hotel convention (naturally). I had two phones, a giant iPhone and my old Razr. Neither was working. Samara disappeared somewhere, and I couldn't find her. 

 

Mc Embarrassed

Okay, okay. Yes. I dreamed that I kissed Mc Lovin (aka Christopher Mintz-Plasse). And he was a real Don Juan. But it was only for like 10 seconds. And then, I deeply regretted it. So it's like it never happened, right? Can I forget about this dream now?

See, in the dream, DeVon had just written a long article about him the the New Yorker after having accidently gotten into a cab with him and his friends. So we were all hanging out in a hotel, me and Peter and DeVon, and Farhad, and my mom, and Christopher Mintz-Plasse, like you do. It was bound to happen. But why, why, Mc Lovin?!? Nafis, are you happy now?

Austrian Dungeonmaster meets Mormon Fundamentalists meets Fargo

I was a spiritual counselor, and a troubled woman wearing five dresses invited me into her cabin for consultation. The woman’s dresses were all tank top dresses in different pastel colors, that fell over each other, such that the different lengths of the dresses overlapped in pastel. This woman reluctantly told me, very softly, that she had been seduced away from her husband by a younger woman, with whom she was now having a passionate affair. The more she talked about it, the more this woman was afraid to tell me about the relationship, and I realized that it was most likely that this woman was underage. I asked the woman directly if the girl was underage, and she didn’t say anything. Instead, she walked outside.

The perspective of the dream changed at this point. I saw an icky pockmarked older man who was this woman’s neighbor, walking over into her yard, American Beauty style, and it was clear to me at that point that he had overheard everything. I waited a minute before following the woman outside, but before I could make it into the yard, I could see tiny bits and pieces of pastel dress and bits of bloody tissue falling into a pile into the snow. I realized the man was disgusted with this woman’s lesbian, potentially illegal, infidelity, and had thrown her into the wood chipper.

The best dream I've had in a long time

I met Mark Twain's dog. He was large, brown, cute, and strangely, still alive and well. He was living in a wooden cabin with his puppies, who were also brown and cute. Only a few of them were there, and others were wandering around outside. There was a plaque on the wall of the cabin that somehow gave proof that this dog had actually belonged to Mark Twain. I felt, as I petted Mark Twain's dog, this sense of peace and calm that always escapes me in waking life, like everything was in place and how it should be. I didn't want to leave.

When I had finished petting the dog and decided to leave, I saw a display of souvenir boxes that contained various potpourri scents that were used to fragrance the room for tourists. There were four scents, one for how the room was scented for each season. I really wanted to buy one so that the smell could remind me of the feeling I had in the room, but then I found out that the box was 30 bucks, which I thought was too much.

An odd, bejeweled, funeral service

I was at a funeral for someone, a blond younger guy, a friend of my dad. I think he might have been German. He had died, and we were in an attic-like room with a bad tan rug having the funeral service. One wall of the room was lined by mahogany-colored books of different series. One series was all the different personality types, a set of about 12, each book about a different personality type. There was another, similar, set of books, but I didn't know what they were about.

My dad asked my brother to go up and play the piano and he did, but he only knew rousing Broadway and jazz music. My dad asked him to play something slower, and my brother felt a little embarrassed, but did anyway. Unfortunately, the piece that he started playing was only a little less rousing than before. I felt bad for my brother, since he clearly had only memorized a few songs for the service.

A team of people was creaing some sort of art memorial nearby in the room, and they were gluing large plastic jewels of all sizes to loops and circles of glue on a large structure made with white walls. It was supposedly designed in the Greek style, but I thought it just looked tacky and felt bad for the dead person.