Enter Sandman

As I entered adulthood, I lost the ability to remember my dreams. After being incarcerated for awhile, the gift has come back.

What do I dream about in prison? Good things, mostly. A person living on the outside would find my dreams quite mundane, however.

Just last night, I visualized myself being treated to McDonald’s by a friend. I had just been released from prison, and we were in the drive-thru. He ordered the #1 meal, which was now ten slices of birthday cake for a dollar. (My friend is a diabetic with a raging sweet tooth, so this kinda makes sense.) He offered to share, but I declined. I told him that I was a traditional Big Mac-and-fries kinda guy.

We pulled up to the window, and I was in shock as the girl handed my friend container after container of red cake. I figured he’d be consuming 3 to 4 zillion calories. Oh, well. I got my Big Mac and fries, so I was happy. And that’s it. That was the whole dream. And I woke up with a grin on my face.

In many of my other dreams, I often find myself behind the wheel of a car. Driving is another thing that I sorely miss. For some reason, the car I’m driving is white, and I’ve never owned a white car. Maybe I should get a white car when I get out . . .

So anyway, if you have the power to drive and eat unhealthy fast food, I’m envious of you. Never take those artery-clogging fries for granted. If they had McDonald’s in prison, I’d order a Big Mac, ten large orders of fries, a FIFTY-piece Chicken McNugget, and a Coke the size of a small water tower.

Yeah, it would kill me, but I’d die happy. Suicide by McHeart Attack sounds a lot better than another 4.5 years in federal prison . . .

P.S. – Fifty-piece Chicken McNuggets really do exist in Texas! (They don’t have those where I’m from.) But why not just order two 20’s and a 10?? Is the fifty-piece cheaper? Anyway, see you next time . . .