Dream Journal Entry 3

First of all I'm high. I'm driving somewhere down the shore toward some town for some reason in a new car I just bought. I'm not just high, I'm baked out of my mind. I am wearing a blanket for some reason and as I'm driving it starts to fall off of me a little bit and somehow get wrapped up in the pedals, making it hard to accelerate and brake. Because of this I miss my exit and decide I need to do something before the problem hets any worse.
aside: difficulty breaking while driving is a running theme throughout my dreams.

So I pull over on the yellow lined part of the exit to untangle the blanket from the pedals. I turn on my hazard lights and attempt to negotiate a surrender from the blanket. This takes a minute and when I come up there is a face in the passenger side window. It is a cop.
I didn't hear any lights or anything and I was stopped for 2 minutes at most. But there he was. The cop looks at me and says, "Hi. I ran your plates. This is your sixth ticket, so your license is going to be suspended. Also, I have to call your parents."
I discarded the bizarreness of the calling of the parents and focused on what the hell he was talking about. "What exactly did I do wrong officer?"
"Well I haven't decided yet. It'll probably be about $73, though. Why don't you step out of the car."
I look at him apprehensively.
"Step out of the car please sir."
OK, I figure, why the hell not.
So I step out of the car.
He says, "Follow me."

He walks out into traffic holding his badge up and I follow behind him. We are walking toward a hole in the wall restaurant. Cars are slamming on their brakes as we walk across the four lane highway (with off-ramps and exits) that this restaurant is somehow located on. Anyway, we finally get inside.

And it's awesome. It's some sort of magical mexican/french chicken place that has the most delicious smell I've ever experienced. Just as a reminder, I'm really high in this dream so this is like heaven. I'm pretty sure the cop could tell I was stoned because I already thought he was fucking with me, but I figured, what the hell I'm along for the ride. At least it will be a story. The cop goes in first, turns to me and says, "Get something good, I'll be right back."

At this point it occurs to me to lock the doors of my car with the beeper thing. I do. He notices I do and he gives me a look that I don't understand. I say, "New car. Just got it. I like it." He disappears into the kitchen of the restaurant without a word, leaving me standing there in line. I figure I should order.

The restaurant is setup with a glass display case full of food, a person working that display and the kitchen behind it. There are about 5 slightly-raised booths made of shitty material and a few stools at a counter. There is a soda fountain machine that carries Boylan Sodas (sidenote: I saw a boylan truck earlier in the day) as well as a case for various beverages, most of which I had never heard of. The menu is enormous. It stretches across the entire restaurant above the food display. One section is devoted to micro-brew beers specifically and has about 15 options. I look up and begin to try to comprehend the enormity of it when a little boy knocks into me.

"Oops."
"Hello," I say, to the kid.
"Mommy! I want that and that and that and that and that and that..." They boy continues and I watch him point at the various delicious looking meats. I look up and there is a young, pretty Mexican woman holding a baby.
"Sorry, they are hungry," she says.

We strike up a conversation about the restaurant and her, most of which I don't remember. In the middle of our conversation, the cop emerges from the kitchen now in full chef garb and walks purposefully through the restaurant, out the door, then onto the street and out of sight.
"Oh, that's [name]. He's a cop. Real tough," the woman says to me under her breath. (note: I don't remember the cop's name)
"Yeah, I know. He pulled me over. My car is right out there."
"Oh."

It's then her turn to order. I don't even pay attention to what she's ordering, I try to figure out what is going on. Again, I'm pretty sure he knows I'm high. I think that he must have gotten my license plate number because of what he said to me, but I don't remember giving him my ID at any time. I crane my neck around to look for my car out the large pane-glass front windows of the restaurant just as the cop walks back in, tucking his gun back into the waistband of his all black chef uniform.

"Hey. What are you doing. Order something. You must be hungry," the cop says in a strange, suggestive tone.
I go back to looking at the menu and before I know it a woman behind the counter shouts at me to order.
"Hi. Umm, I don't really know what I want. Something with chicken, and cheese, and spicy?"
"Oh okay. We got just the thing. I'm gonna melt some cheese and bacon on top of some chicken, give you some jalapeno fries, you will love it. It's the crackler special."
"Okay." It sounds awesome. She writes down my order.

I move down the counter to wait for my food and an order comes out bagged up and ready for takeout. It's placed right in front of me. Is it mine? I peer inside. It's some sort of shrimp magic that smells amazing. I realize it is not mine, it must be the mother's. I hand it to her. She smiles and ushers her children out the door. The sun is setting as she leaves. She looks beautiful as she leaves. I miss her immediately. I feel a loss that is difficult to describe as she walks out of view, still holding the baby, holding her food in one hand, and one child in the other (another adorable little girl holding the boy's hand). I wonder who she is, whether she was happy, whether I could make her happy. I want to run after her. I'm going to run after her. I need her to-

A loud sound snaps me out of it. My order is ready. It is two gigantic plates of food. I'm starving and it smells delicious. I grab the plates and turn around to look for a seat. I see a hand with a finger pointing towards the table the hand owner is sitting in. It is the cop. I bring my food to his table, scoot in and look up. He has a hooker on his lap. She is asian. She is wearing way too much makeup. She could be anywhere from 16-40 years old. Her nails are the size of rulers. She's wearing a bright pink tube top that is hanging on for dear life. She's moving side to side ever so slightly, maybe so that I don't notice. I notice. The cop definitely notices.

"She said to me, 'I'll never fuck a guy who's over 150.' Do you think you could get her to fuck you?" It wasn't until this question that I noticed how big the cop was. He was Lou Ferrigno big. He looked like he could tear this poor girl in half. Also he had somehow fast changed back into his cop uniform. This had to be some sort of joke. He knew I was high and he was just fucking with me. I figured I would play along.
"Well, I've been told I'm a very gentle lover." They both laughed heartily. I excused myself to go get a drink.

A guy behind the counter moves quickly to meet me at the soda fountain
"You know he's just fucking with you, right?" he says as he fills up a drink of his own.
"Yeah," I reply quietly. He didn't look at me and I didn't look at him. This made me nervous.

I get back in the booth with my drink.
"You eat pussy?" the cop asks, his voice now booming. I look up slowly and then look at the girl. She is playing with a lollipop in her mouth.
"I said YOU EAT PUSSY?"
"Yeah," I reply calmly and look back down at my food.
"Tell my girl how you do it."
"Well, obviously, it's all about the motion of the tongue. Whether or not it's moving fast or slow, what direction it's moving in, where you put it. These things are important," I say matter of factly.
The cop laughs again, this time much differently though. The asian hooker does not laugh. Her fingernails are drifting across the table towards my hand. Slowly. Almost impossibly slowly. Time is frozen as her grotesque, blue with silver stars 10-inch long fingernails move towards my now shaking right hand. It is face down on the table. She touches the back of my palm

and I wake up.