Sandwiches. A dream.
2007 11 04
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Modern people who lived like Romans were part of society. Not that they'd adopted that way of life like some kind of ancient form of the SCA, but that they'd just evolved that way.
You'd be walking down the street and there were people in togas, and no one thought anything too odd of it.
Some of them showed up with a piece of furniture for me, a corner bar that looked like the top of an Ionic or Corinthian column.
Then it switched to a scene where a Roman woman was in her kitchen trying to commit suicide by stabbing herself in the stomach, at the same time that she was trying to make sure she left three meals for her husband; three meals that were made of foot and a half long baguette-like loaves with tapered ends, that she wrapped and piled on the floor by the cupboards, talking about how he could microwave them; but whatever was coming out of her looked like my grandmother's spaghetti sauce, with ground beef.
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Have I ever mentioned how when I lay down in the afternoon to nap, or when I have a fever, that I have what could be classified as very bizarre dreams, and that I'm a big fan of I, CLAVDIVS?