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September 7th, 2005

Last night's dream: Ricky and I were attending a food festival in Hollywood (?), set up along Franklin in the area between Cahuenga and Western, where in reality there are a few interesting places. We had already sampled several restaurants when someone told us that we should get on this bus to hit the rest of the festival. So we got on this bus, but no one else did. The bus took off up into the Hollywood hills above Franklin, and we were trying to figure out what restaurants it could possibly be going to. After a few minutes of enduring the driver's terrible maneuvering around the hilly curves, we realized this driver was just an idiot who had absolutely no idea as to where he was going. We were questioning this idiot, who just kept trying to tell us everything was fine. Suddenly he spotted some little broken-down rib joint at the top of the hill, and pulled up next to it, exclaiming that it had been his destination all along. We of course realized this moron had just gotten lucky and stumbled on this restaurant, and was now lying to us, but we were happier to get off the bus than to stay on and yell at this galoot.

Jeez, I'm not sure whether to be ashamed or impressed that my subconscience seems to have interpreted Katrina as some kind of Hollywood joke...