I am in a large cafeteria or soup kitchen of some sort, sitting at a table composed almost entirely of hispanic females. A large bowl of salad is in front of me, and for some reason I am very hesitant to touch it. Suddenly one of the hispanic women reaches into the bowl, pulls out a baseball and a tomato, and begins to juggle. In the dream i get the impression that she is trying to impress me. The attempt fails.

I now see an aerial view of myself getting up from the table. I sport a pompadour and sideburns to rival Conway Twitty. I straighten my collar, comb my hair and say "Well,take it easy, ladies!" or something of that nature and saunter out of the cafeteria.

I am now in the parking lot of a grocery store, sitting in the back of a truck with two disheveled-looking men who are wearing dirty baseball caps. Apparently we are business partners, as we have hastily put together a lemonade stand in front of the truck.

A young, terribly inebriated couple stagger up to our truck and ask if we sell Jagermeister. I began to say no, but one of the men puts his hand over my mouth and says,"Yeah! It's in that big pitcher over there that says 'lemonade' on it!"

I mutter something to myself and walk over to my car. In the dream, my car is actually a van, and a very garish van at that. I see that it has a giant picture of a coyote and an indian chief airbrushed on the side. The van itself is purple and has all sorts of peeling political bumper stickers on the back. I glance at one of them, shamefully peel it off, and quizzically exclaim, "That's funny...I don't remember voting for Gary Bauer!"

I get in the van and notice several dream-catchers hanging from the rear-view mirror. I start the ignition, jam the accelerator to the floor and start doing donuts in the parking lot. There is something that sounds like German rap music playing on the radio and I begin to annoyingly bob my head to the beat.

Finally, I take a swig from a big bottle underneath the seat, peel out, and yell to the guys at the lemonade stand:"You'll never work in this business again!" and proceed to laugh maniacally.

So I'm careening down the highway in this humongous old utility van, with the German music blaring, when all of a sudden I see a big, wooden billboard in the shape of a policeman in front of me, holding a sign that says "BE A REAL MAN AND STOP THAT INFERNAL RACKET" in large red letters. I do as told and hear a voice from the backseat say, "Good work, Chico!" (my name is not Chico.)I stop the car and cautiously turn around to respond. What I see is a hamster sitting in a cage, clad in a tiny sailor's suit. I feel inclined to salute, and do so. The hamster becomes offended by this gesture and lunges at me.

I begin to spit on the hamster, but before any expectoration takes place I wake up.

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