Tales of the Spaniard
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A Spaniard with an American passport figuring out life what life is all about in Boston
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Dream 
Thursday, November 18, 2004

I had a really odd dream last night. I was at my house in spain, and I went outside and saw a very large rat. It was very hostile and I worried that it might bite me and give me some diasease. I tried to kill it. I caught it but it would not die. I tried choking it to death, stomping on it and even beating it to death, but nothing worked. The more I tried to kill it in vain, the more frightened of it I became. Finally I let it go and watched it scamper down into a hole it had dug in the ground. When I told people about it, no one really believed me. I took them over to see the hole, but it still wasnt proof enough (my dog digs holes after all). As we were looking at the hole, it emerged, but it had changed. It had grown bigger, about the size of a dog and had grown more hair. Everyone thought it was a dog, and everyone was delighted by it. I tried to explain things, but no one was listening. I pointed to its sleek rat-like tail, but no one seemed to notice. It gave me a look as if to say "you will never get rid of me." Eventually in the dream, it changed into a man and I kept trying to get my mother and sister to see that it was wicked, but they were blind to the truth. It still retained its tail, but it wore a trenchcoat, which hid it. My final attempt to unveil his true nature also failed when I yanked off his coat, revealing his tail, and everyone simply thought it was odd but kind of cute. They fawned over him even more. In despair, I woke up.

Freud would have too much fun with my brain.

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