Namaste. Now I will kill you.

I had a couple of very odd dreams last night.

In one, I was on some sort of long hike with Doc and my parents and a bunch of other people. There was camping involved. The end of the trip involved a long walk up a grassy valley to a large building on a hilltop. It was the job of a 3-year-old girl in our group to scrub out the bathtub in this building, to leave it clean for the next group of people that might come by, but I knew that she wasn’t going to do a good job so I did it myself. I know there was a lot more to this dream, involving hang gliders and the military and things, but the details have escaped me.

In another one, I dreamed that McDonald’s had purchased the U.S. government. They replaced the border guards with angry-looking men in Ronald McDonald clown costumes, and they all had machine guns. They would rip people out of their cars at the border and poke them with bayonets while shouting at them. The image of a furious red-haired clown in a yellow suit, his face looming above me and screaming, is now burned into my brain. Yeeks.