I just had a dream that a bunch of Republicans from Congress were descending on some coffee shop (it looked exactly like the Caribou on Fairview and Randolph in St. Paul) to protest something having to do with garbage disposal and "government waste" and taxes. I ended up interrupting John Boehner as he was on his way to dig through a dumpster, and we ended up standing between a little, dusty sedan and a gigantic, organge SUV, talking about what was going on. He got tearful, and the conversation (and dream) ended with me reading him a short, reflective paper I wrote for Ulysses class, which he deeply appreciated.
How you know you are an English major: when your dreams involve emotional persuasions of shitty people through the power of captial-L Literature.
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