Last night I had a variation on one of my long time reoccurring dreams. I was in line at an Arabic bakery on Ford Road in Dearborn, MI. It is during an apocalypse. I should clarify that in the dream this is never mentioned, I just have this background knowledge. I am waiting in line for cardamom bread. In front of me is a woman who is yelling at her husband in Hindi, and he in turn is running back and forth down the aisles yelling back at her in very formal Turkish. He was in the Na’an aisle which was piled to the ceiling with Na’an, but he was unable to find any. 20 minutes pass and she finally gets fed up, walks down to her husband, grabs three bags of bread, one in each hand but she only had two hands, smack on across her husbands head and they walk out. As I turn back to address my turn in line there is white man in cammo behind the counter with his shotgun pointed at my head. He shouts out. “You god’am mother fuckin’ faggot!” and blows my head off. I look down, see the mess, pick up some of my face pieces, draw a smiley in the mess I’m holding in my hands, again I have no idea where the third arm came from and proceed to order a loaf a cardamom bread from the old Arabic man behind the counter. As he’s telling my that the Indian woman bought the last of it, thew man in cammo once again aim at me, calls me some jibberish racial slur, there is a loud BAM! and I wake up. It’s been about a half hour now and I am still finding myself irritated that I didn’t get any cardamom bread.
