Dreamed & drawn 1982/2/15 by Chris Wayan
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."
There's nothing like the one-two punch of bad beans and overripe cruciferous vegs. Stabbing gas pains all night! What's odd is that my dream apparently sided with the food trying to break out. And they made 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 "Don't waste 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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