when my dream started i could hear the loud thumping of music below me. the streets were slick, and everything smelled wet. it was late at night and the street was full of people, migrant workers, getting on their bikes after finishing work at the city's vast array of restaurants from all over the world. "i like all the worldy flavors of los angeles restaurants but why do all the people have to move here..." said a wife to her husband as they handed their ticket to valet. the man, an indian man, smiled and winked at me. the husband grunted and flicked his cigarette onto the street and when it burned out it sizzled loud like electricity.
i walked down the stairs towards where the music was coming from. i opened the door to a dark room filled with lots of people, everyone was drinking their cocktails really fast and not speaking much, bump after bump between their index and thumb. the dj was playing a remix of immortal technique's 'peruvian cocaine' and pete bjorn and johns' 'young folks' and somewhow it was in complete harmony. i decided i leave and walked the streets alone. one store caught my attention. it was a mystics shop and the native woman inside was very beautiful. her smile made me blush...i asked her what her name was and she pointed to her name tag that said 'artisan'. she was making jewerly out of religious emblems and painting different faces over photos of the crucifixion. there was a loud yell outside and we both walked out to see what was going on. a group of students were arguing and two of the students morphed into policemen...
google homework: the stanford prison experiment
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