so i have this dream that i’m at a fraternity convention which turns into a wedding reception. they groom is a friend of my Frat, but in real life he’s someone who I only know by sight. The hotel I’m staying in seem kinda oldschool and all of the phones are corded and big and clunky with bell ringers. The groom’s wearing a polyester leisure suir w/ heavy soles (ala uncle Rico). I am trying to get my voicemail which I haven’t checked in a while, to see the status of some side gigs i might or might not have been offered while I was out of town wherever I am.

this one voicemail (which was really an email i received last night from one of my contractors) made me think i was behind on project, so i try to call him. suddenly i’m outoors in a fenced in parking lot, on another clunky corded phone.

Pedro from Napoleon Dynamite is nearby, talking to someone in their car, him outside the person inside. he looks kinda drugged out (well, in a different way) and he’s wearing a hat turned backwards and dressed kinda bummy. next thing i know he shoots the guy in head. I’m still on the phone and there’s a short in the cord, so I’m pissed because I’m trying to get details about this gig, and the phone goes dead. I’m like, HELLO, HELLO.

Pedro start to take stuff out of another car, but the cords attached make him stumble as he tries to run away, I’m still w/ the HELLO, HELLO, sort of worried about tipping him off to me being a witness to a murder. His pattern is very erratic, a cycle of steal, stumble, run, in a widening spiral pattern. 270 degrees into his path rotation i decide to run. fast. I wake breathing like a sprinter.

I saw some of Napoleon Dynamite for the first time on HBO this week and I made some monster salmon patties for dinner.