I had a bit of a nightmare this morning, complete with false awakenings. It took place in a titanic Chuck E. Cheese that was so big that it included an athletic center with a buffet. As I passed the buffet, a hidden panel in the wall slid open, and the sound of an evil voice emerged. I don’t remember what it said, but presently the owner stepped from the doorway. It was an evil Santa Claus encased in crystal, with a chainsaw for an arm. Its mission: to find and terminate everyone who believed in Santa Claus. It chased me into a huge restroom, like something from a Vegas casino, then I woke up. I breathed a sigh of relief, then heard the crystal Santa bellowing in my living room. Then I woke up again.
Surely, there is an urgent message from my subconscious buried somewhere in there. And perhaps a lesson about having pork tacos too close to bedtime.