Nurse the Hate: The Psychadelic Protein Bar

I wish I would have known that my decision to eat a RX Bar at 1:30am would be a wild psychedelic ride.  Who knew that “3 egg whites, 6 almonds, 4 cashews, 2 dates and No B.S.” would lead me into one of the wildest nights of sleep I have had in weeks.  I figured it was better to eat this driving down the highway then it was to eat a jalapeno roller dog from Speedway.  An American convenience store after midnight is filled with bad choices.  I was just trying to limit the damage.  I'm trying to do the right thing by God!  That damn snack bar thing should have had a warning label on it for the dreams it gave me.  

Dream #1...  I am at a ranch house which feels like I own.  My friend Mike comes over and brings in tow with him a friend of his.  There is a “party” at this house, but it’s really just a bunch of dodgy characters drinking cans of beer.  I don’t know these people and feel uncomfortable with them in my space.  They walk around the house indifferent to me, looking at me suspiciously as if I am the unwanted guest.  I am wary of Mike's friend as he seems like a grifter dope fiend.  The friend asks me to borrow a beautiful Porsche 911, a resplendent silver late model that I don’t actually own but for the purposes of the dream I do.  In my desire to appear to be “the good guy” and overly generous to the strangers at the party, I toss The Grifter the keys and am filled with immediate regret.  What have I done?  I know he is not going to respect me or my car. 

Within minutes I nervously get The Grifter's mobile number from Mike and call him to make sure everything is OK.  He answers the phone, obviously high on a combination of drugs, laughing about how he had been going 110 mph down a dirt road.  He then keeps laughing like I am in on the joke and hangs up.  The dream then sequences to a tow truck pulling the battered 911 into my dirt road driveway.  Mike’s friend jumps out of the tow truck laughing with some half baked story he had obviously just concocted to deflect blame and suggest that the incident wasn’t totally his fault.  Filled with anger at myself for creating this entire scenario, I reach into The Grifter's chest chest as his eyes open in pain and surprise.  I pull out what looks like a battery pack with four main cables that reach out from it like octopus tentacles.  He falls to the ground as if I have shut him off.  I calmly pick up a large fallen log and bash his head into a red jelly, insuring no one can re-insert the battery into him and bring him back to working order.

The dream is a bit unsettling.  Next...

I am wandering in a flea market.  It’s very crowded and I am always in someone’s way.  I can’t make any progress.  Folding tables are set up with vendors trying to sell all sorts of odd curios.  It’s a mixture of junk and odd pieces.  A man with broken teeth is selling swords.  A leathery woman has antique pins and broaches set off by mismatching ear rings.  A spindly man that keeps dabbing at his nose with a handkerchief sits in a beaten wooden chair.  On his table are jars with old taxidermy animals floating in a yellowish liquid.  He looks disinterested in the present scene as if waiting for the perfect customer he knows will eventually arrive.   

I am getting pushed by the crowd behind me.  I am guided into a table with a perfectly pressed white tablecloth.  Artfully giftwrapped boxes are arranged in a pleasing way on the table.  A smiling blonde girl in a sundress hands me a box with green paper and a gold bow.  Her silver bracelets jingle as she reaches towards me.  “It’s ready for you.  Here you go.”  I tell her that it must be a mistake.  This isn’t my box.  She smiles at me as the crowd pushes me along.  I stutter step ahead being protective of the box.  I want to get the box to the rightful owner and am afraid I will damage it before I can do so.

The crowd keeps pushing me until I am forced out of the market.  I am walking down the sidewalk away from the market.  It’s a worn cityscape.   I don’t know this place but it feels like I need to keep moving ahead in the direction I am walking.  The sky is low hanging clouds.  I hear one of those European sirens.  People are approaching from behind.  I can hear them as their footsteps get louder.  Dozens of commuters rush past me, hitting my elbows, jostling the box.  I walk for blocks like this.  I'm slightly panicked.  I stop when the road dead ends in front of a large tunnel.  It’s dark and I can’t see inside it.  It smells like a polluted river and urine.  I stand in the middle of the street.

A woman calls out from a window facing the intersection.  She leans out of what looks like one of those farmhouse doors.  It’s a shop of some kind.  “Hey!  What’s in the box?”  It hits me that I have no idea what’s in the box.  I feel foolish for having been so protective of this box without knowing what it contains.  I pull the gold ribbon and it falls away.  I lift the lid of the box to reveal a swarm of bees.  They aren’t angry but buzz with life.  They swirl out of the box in one gorgeous black and yellow cloud.  I stand in the street holding the empty box.

I tell you what...  You eat one of those RX Bars and take some NyQuil you might never come down.