run, fatty, run!

sreeman shanker is a 16 year old indian boy in my neighbourhood whom i've ceaselessly mocked ever since he was a kid. he's short, stout, and very fat, and best of all, he's a vegetarian...his body size defies explanation, especially when you think about that last factor. i've been pissed off by him repeatedly while playing football, and he's been the inspiration for many of my indian jokes. bottom line: i just love insulting him and his race, and he probably derives some satisfaction from doing the same to me.

i had a dream. it was very indian-centric. i dreamt that he and satish (another neighbourhood indian, only blacker than mr. shanker) were over at my house (a rarity since i only usually invite one indian per sitting) playing one of the need for speed games. for some strange reason, we were racing vans. i then proceeded to beat him, which led him to run off with my game in tow. he was on a bike.

the dreamscape then shifted to somewhere that looked like that school opposite centrepoint in BU, except that it looked more like a condo. i basically chased him around there, until i got the game off him and proceeded to kick the living shit out of him. very violent. he then rode off, escaping, but satish and i managed to corner him after a bit. he then rode off again, and then the scene shifted back to my neighbourhood.

for some strange reason, the indian stall outside my house had turned into a tiki beach house, complete with alcohol and torches (a sign of things to come?), and sreeman was with yet another indian, satia, and i proceeded to go up to him and say: "don't you ever do that again. ever." mmmm. how uncharacteristically macho of me. that was the most vivid thing i remember, most probably because i say it to him all the fricking time.

we then looked at each other and bursted out laughing. friends again.

i then went into the tiki house and bought a drink, getting a side parlour seat, not unlike what you'd see in an old-school american diner. weird. i then went up to get a bar seat with satia and sreeman, and the dream stops there.

i really need an interpreter for all this rubbish. what'd the dream mean? tiki beach house right outside my place? tres cool. but yes.

it's saturday. and, as usual, since i didn't do anything yesterday, it feels like a sunday.

it's a little over dawn right now. nothing's stirring.