Evil Food

We ate evil food. Whether or not that is the reason behind my and guy’s night filled with mares isn’t of much consequence. It happened at a super fancy dinner for guy’s mom in Smalltown outside of Baltimore City. She’s turning 60 and we surprised her with our exquisite presence from across the country.

And then we ate foie gras.

Guy flashed me a look when he thought I was going to say too much about foie gras in the presence of his 10-yr-old nephews. “Well, maybe it’s ok to try it, even though it’s very very bad…” (flash look) and I stopped.

Neither of us had ever had it, and we ordered. Thank god I don’t know how much it cost. I don’t want to know how much money eating evil food, food begat by evil means costs…and later that night, the nightmares came. They were about cheating and being cheated, about being hunted for no discernible reason, about an evil force that I couldn’t see or find, or get anyone to listen to me about, about a good friend peeing all over my bed and on my walls, about ominous notes that made no sense on my walls and in my books, about my favorite things being stolen and I don’t even realize it until later when it’s too late to find a source. Guy dreamed of being responsible for a huge gaggle of cats having their skeletons on the outsides of their bodies and the choices concerning them he would have to make. It was horrible it was horrible, he repeated.

When morning woke me up, guy had risen and opened the bedroom door. “Where are you going?” I asked him. “Downstairs.” In my mind, in the swirl of sleep mixing with awake, I didn’t know my dreams were just dreams yet. I felt angry and sad and sick to my stomach. Then guy returned. He laid next to me and I realized they were nightmares. We told each other of our horrendous night.

Whatever that foie gras costs, we paid for it in our sleep. Evil food begat by evil means. We will never do it again.

Tasted kind of good though.