My nightmare preceding my taquito vomit.

The nightmare that I dreamt like right before I woke up for my taquito vomit was -

I was in a hospital room, and my great aunt the nun was there, and though I knew she was sick somehow, her face looked healthy, and what you could see of her body did too, as she was out of her habit and was in a cotton gown that was uncovered on her here and there, in addition to a small modest white cotton veil covering her head.

We were talking, and all of a sudden she got embarrassed, and her gown had shifted somehow and accidentally uncovered the lower part of her body, and around where her vagina should be was a rather giant gash with an edge all around like a leech's mouth and reddish greenish purpling like a bruise, and a light tan shit was starting to slowly ooze up out of it as part of some sort of sickness she had, and she started trying to pull down her gown and cover herself up, though of course that didn't work out too well for some reason.

I then started to help clean up around the bed, pieces of cloth with stains of excrement on them, and then a bowl on the fake wood hospital swinging shelf bedside table that had like a bloody water in it, and a massively bloodstained q-tip draped into it from the edge.

I picked up the q-tip in some cloth with excrement on it, so I wouldn't have to hold the dirty and bloody q-tip, and I had my fingers in the cloth in such a way so as to avoid them getting dipped in the shit-stained parts, but as I was walking over to the wastebasket to go throw everything out, I simply felt more and more disgusted...

And then I woke up.

. . .

Worst vomit ever?

I've gotten a bad habit of getting a couple of 7-11 taquitos after leaving bars and going to go home.

The other Saturday, I was out and walked by a 7-11, so I was like, "Why not?", and not only did I pop in to get a couple, but the (young) (African-American) counterwoman was like, "Want three? They're three for three," and I assented.

So, I got them in that little thin paper wrapper they come in, scarfed them, took forever to go home, and then fell asleep.

That night I had a very disturbing nightmare that included body horror, and then I woke up stark straight at like 9am, and my stomach felt just a bit on the verge of upset.

I couldn't get back to sleep, and I half-wondered if I needed to vomit, though I kind of felt like taking a shit, too, so I got up and wandered over the bathroom, and then tried squatting, though I couldn't shit, so I ended up getting up and swapping around and leaning my head into the toilet, to see if I needed to vomit.

Nothing was happening for a while, but I was still feeling queasy, then all of a sudden I felt it, this searing up the back of my throat, and it turned out to be the least liquid vomit ever.

Basically, it was like a dried up fire of ground taquito shells scraping its way up the back of my throat slowly, and then I had to hack it into the toilet bowl in small mouthfuls that were made all the worse since it was mixed in among a bit of the most condensed, powerful bile ever, which had a taste like an awful salsa from hell.

It took three similar retches of scraping to get it all out, and even then it wasn't much vomit, maybe a small bowlful, and it was like pretty much all taquito, plus a bit of stomach bile to boot as a coagulant or whatever.

The back of my throat felt seared for a good twelve to fourteen hours afterwards, too.

Aspirational life goal...

...after I found out that the one workplace I'm at might affiliate with the Teamsters:

To create new Teamsters!  Over a hundred of them!

What a sweet f*cking ass life goal.  And to always be able to say that I did that, if I achieve that.

A dream with both good and bad in it:

The other week I dreamt -

I was in the soulfood place that I had read about in a free city newspaper and that I always see from the outside when I take the bus into school, and I was surprised at how spacious it was, particularly the huge open cooler like you see in supermarkets for cheeses, only this one had stuff like unwrapped small spiral cut hams set out on small boards.

While I'm there, I put the tongue into the corner of my mouth onto my far back right bottom molar, and I can feel a huge dent where a deep cavity is.

And then, I wake up.

. . .

Immigration chaos hits campus.

Yesterday I ran into a (Mexican) friend who's a Spanish language instructor, and she was on the way to the international coordination office to figure out some visa stuff.

She said that she's been here on some kind of special visa status associated with NAFTA, and that she just doesn't know what will happen with it.

"Maybe I'm all Mexican dramatic," she was like, "But I'm very worried."

"No," I was like, "You're not a dramatic person at all, and you're right to be worried."

She's also unsure right now if she should plan on leaving the country and attending her brother's wedding this summer.

A nightmare of bad dental care.

The other week I dreamt -

I was in my bathroom at my apartment brushing the bottom right side of my mouth, and then I continue over and start brushing the bottom left side of my mouth.

Only, it's the side where I had my periodontal work done, and I suddenly realize that I shouldn't be brushing that part of my mouth at all, instead I should still be using the anti-bacterial mouthwash that I was prescribed, and I start to worry that I f*cked up all my expensive periodontal work.

And, then I wake up.

. . .

(I actually did have periodontal work done there, and was still using the anti-bacterial mouthwash at the time that I had this dream.)

Apartment cleaning consequence: Magazine drop at the gym.

Because I had been cleaning my apartment, I had to confront the pile of mail that I had collected from the last tenant, which I had been saving but I guess really didn't matter to her since she never bothered contacting me or the landlord about it, or even contacting the Post Office to go get it forwarded to her.

(Ah, to live like that!)

Anyhow, it was pretty much all generic ads mail and a few magazines, and so I decided to chuck all the letters and the one alumni magazine, but take the 2 Cosmopolitans into the school gym to leave them there so that others could read and use them.

When I did that, I ran into the one (local) (African-American) woman who she and her dad I know, from using the gym for a long time and she was asking me how I was doing.

"I'm trying to leave some Cosmopolitans here without anyone noticing," I was like, and I told her how I had gotten them.

"Look at this," I was like, "Honestly?", and I laughed and read out the article title "Have Sexier Sex".

She laughed too, then she was like, "Don't worry, [shortened version of my first name], your secret's safe with me."

Then, we went in separate directions to our workouts.