It's Good Food...

I had the strangest dream last night. It was so vivid and I have been thinking about it for hours.

I was driving a Jeep, like a Daisy Duke kinda Jeep. A female police officer rear ended me at stop light. We pulled into a store parking lot to check it out. It wasn't bad and there was no damage to either vehicle so we just shook on it and she took off. For whatever reason there was a toddler in her car too. I remember wondering why but I don't know... Again, it was very vivid.

I decided to go into the store. It was like a Target type of place and I ran into a couple of friends, said hello and all that. I ran into my friend Anya and were in a check-out line just talking. I never bought anything, I was just in line for some reason. She pays for her things and I walk on through the line. I was just standing there and people were walking by, I'm still in the store. This black man walks in. He is obviously homeless. He was barefooted, and his hair was all messy and dripping with sheen. Imagine a filthy Easy-E but no shades or hat, totally dirty and without shoes. That is the best way to describe him. He was pushing a cart. Not a shopping cart either. It was like a small canvas cart. I was just watching him and he started handing out magazines to people. The magazines looked brand new and he comes up to me and gives me one. He says, "It's good food."

I take the magazine and it was a cookbook, magazine. I look at him and the him thank him. He just stands there staring at me with grease dripping from his hair, then points up his index finger as in telling me to hold on. Then starts rummaging in his little cart thing again. I am just standing there and he pulls out a cloth with something wrapped inside of it. Inside is a severed hand with tattoos of writings all over it. It wasn't all bloody or anything. It was like it had been cleaned. It was just a severed hand with a stump at the wrist, as if all the blood had already dried. He hands it to me and I take it. I'm looking at the hand and all the tattoos are addresses and names with dates under them. I am reading it and he is just standing there watching me. I wrap it back up and give it back to him. He puts it away and does the finger motion again as if he wants me to wait. Then he pulls out a small box with plastic draped over the side and a large ladle. A big soup ladle. Now keep in mind of his appearance. Then he see sets the box on a check-out counter, meanwhile people are just casually walking by as this is going on. He dips the ladle into the box and fills it with this black, tar looking liquid that is now dripping over the edge of the large spoon. He goes to hand it to me but I decline, so he shrugs like "okay then" and dumps it over his head. Now he has all this black greasy shit running down his face, onto his dirty clothes and barefoot onto the floor. He puts the box back into his cart and rolls it away, out the door.

The only words he ever spoke were, "It's good food. The rest were simply hand gestures.

Another strange part of the dream is that not once did I feel afraid or intimidated, shocked. Nothing.
Then I woke up. I am still thinking about it though.