NOTES

The fine print:

"The broccoli had flowered;
I stir-fried it anyway.
Alan's hummus disaster
had weakened us all.

I dreamed that rebels with
swords of yellow crystal
stabbed the belly of a brutal empire.
It seems that all along, my
sympathy was with the mustard."

What's odd is that my dream apparently sided with the food trying to break out.

What's more, they made very sure I knew they meant the broccoli; their crystal swords were just the lemon hue of the broccoli flowers.

Looking back, I think this empire the rebels were fighting was NOT my gut. It was brainwashing.

My parents grew up in the Great Depression; their mantra was "Never waste food."

Including inedible food.

This nightmare was trying to unteach that, and warning that if I didn't unlearn... I'd pay in pain.

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