Dream of: 08 August 2002 "Caratoid Artery"
I was sitting in the back of a small truck. Two rows of seats (with three seats in each row) were facing each other. I was sitting in the middle seat of my row, in between two other fellows. Three fellows were sitting in the three seats facing me. All five other fellows were about 20 years old.
Another truck, similar to mine, was ahead of us. Everyone in both trucks was just riding around, out on a lark – I wasn't even sure where we were going, until someone said we were headed to Canada. Almost immediately we pulled up to the border crossing. Luckily I had my ID in my wallet, even though no one had told me to bring an ID. However, I didn't need the ID – we were allowed to pass through the border without even showing IDs.
After we had passed into Canada, my truck continued following the lead truck; we headed down a country road through flat farmland. A blonde woman (in her early 20s) was walking along the road. I made a sound which indicated she was good-looking. The fellow sitting directly across from me stood up to look. I took his seat, and he sat back down in mine One of the other fellows said if my nephew Steven were with us, Steven would "hit on" the woman.
I was surprised by the comment. I had never considered Steven to be much of a lady's man. Lately, however, I had noticed Steven seemed to think of himself as a handsome fellow; this attitude surprised me because as soon as he started talking, it was clear he wasn't very intelligent; women would probably not be attracted to him. Nevertheless, lately Steven had had pictures taken of himself and had strung the pictures around in different places; it seemed silly to me.
We continued on until we reached a junkyard. I got out of the truck; the truck pulled away and the others traveled on. They were supposed to come back and pick me up later.
The junkyard belong to one man; other men were in the junkyard working for him. Machines were picking up junk and putting the junk in a pile. I watched for a while, and then was allowed to operate the machine picking up the junk. I soon had picked up so much junk, I began to worry that I had overdone it, that I had piled up too much junk.
My companions returned. I again boarded the truck and we took off again. We passed some huge log buildings and enormous statues of animals sitting in front of the buildings. Each statue was carved from a gigantic hunk of wood. Some statues were six or seven meters tall; I had never seen such large wooden statues.
The log buildings (made of dark wood) looked like apartment houses, four and five stories tall with dozens of apartments. I had been thinking myself of building a log house; so I relished looking at these lavish buildings. I thought to myself, "I love Canada."
We continued on until we pulled into an establishment where meat was sliced up outside. We stopped and one of the men in my truck handed over a large slab of meat to the man who ran the establishment. I thought to myself how these people's lives seemed to center so much around meat. To me, it was disgusting.
I was surprised when the man who handed over the hunk of meat said he didn't eat meat. Apparently he had a heart problem.
I immediately decided that in the future I was going to use heart problems as an argument for why people shouldn't eat meat. I was going to learn all about the heart. I knew meat could cause heart disease and I specifically thought about the caratoid artery. I could describe the caratoid artery and explain to people how this artery could become clogged as a result of eating meat. I also had recently read statistics that a person who didn't eat meat lived on an average 30 years longer than a person who did eat meat.
For most of my life I had eschewed the eating of meat. Now I was going to more forcefully assemble my arguments against the eating of meat, especially how meat affected the heart.
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