I had a strange poop in the middle of the night last night. It smelled like beer. Beer. It feels like I'm cleansing inward, moving down through my body, peeling the onion, crossing the circles on a tree stump, and each new circle I hit is something new, something older.

I had vivid dreams meanwhile, most of which had some kind of eating theme. I was conscious of being not supposed to eat, yet in some of the dreams I absentmindedly ate something -- a cookie or a piece of sushi -- and then panicked afterwards, realizing what I'd done. No!

In one dream, I was strolling through some town and entered a diner. As I sat down and looked over the menu, I realized of course that I could only order one thing: a spicy lemonade made from organic lemons, maple syrup, and cayenne pepper. The waitress came over, and I asked if she could make it. Of course I expected her to say no, so that then I could leave politely without having to admit that I'd been foolish for even stepping foot inside. But she said, "Sure, hon. We'll see what we can do." I was surprised and pleased -- I'd actually get to eat there in the restaurant. But then of course I realized, no way, there are proportions that have to be adhered to, ways of mixing the ingredients, this will never work. So I knew I wouldn't be able to drink it. But she brought over a cup that smelled right and shone the right shade of gold. So I sipped it. It tasted phenomenal. But there were other flavors, and I looked inquisitively up at the waitress. She commented, "He added some tea, some chamomile, some marjoram. Just to make it interesting." Confused, perplexed, thinking, marjoram?, I took another sip. And then I finished it. Delicious. I felt guilty, sinful.

--tony

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