Tricycle dream

Last night:

I am riding a tiny kids’ tricycle (as opposed to the large adult tricycle, you say? — yes) everywhere I go, on the side of the highway. Cars flying past at 80 miles an hour, occasionally honking at me. I don’t feel silly or embarrassed; just focused on getting where I need to go.

I’m on my way to a second-hand store to try to buy a radio. I HAVE a radio — but apparently it does not pick up enough channels.

All the radios in this shop are massive and ancient. I like them, but don’t know how I could get one home on my tricycle. (Also, they’re absurdly expensive — not like antiques, though; just because they’re supposed to be good radios, according to the lady.)

Later I’m with my dad, and he notices I’m acting kind of funny — and that I can’t seem to remember anything for more than a minute. My short-term memory is just gone. I notice my head hurts a bit, and discover a bump on the back of my head. It’s a very protuberant egg — I laugh: “It’s like a cartoon lump!” I hadn’t noticed it before, but now that I’m aware of it, it hurts like hell.

Later I’m at home, trying to clean off these two bananas. They’re filthy and appear disgusting and rotten — but somehow I know they’re good, I just can’t peel them easily cause they’re covered in slime and dark muck.

And that’s it.

(But, then, I should really just shut my bloody trap. Shouldn’t I.)