lastnite: a dream journal

Poundcake good, Coney Island bad

I was crawling on the floor thinking about a new theory. I was going to write a paper about one syllable boys' names. I was going to use the example Margaret told me about her husband and hunting dogs who only have one syllable names. I also was going to write about nicknames and about a girl named Jazz whose real name was Jasmine.

I was listening to NPR. Click and Clack were crying to each other; they were getting sued for a parody gone wrong. As Clack sobbed, Click said "Let's run that Cartoon Network ad." Then my dead cat Amy jumped on the bed. I knew it was her by the tilt of her head. She laid on my chest and kneaded her feet on my lips.

Then I think she turned into poundcake. She had a New Jersey license plate that said "theft deterrent" and "Poundcake good, Coney Island bad."