Last night I dreamt that I visited a Polynesian restaurant in Denver that had been open and unchanged since the 1960s. I entered through giant Wotca carved doors and sat in a dark booth surrounded by stone tile walls. I inquired about tiki mugs with the waitress and was informed that they still had some Frankoma tiki mugs available from their original stock. As I waited I looked around at the interior, which was very dusty and had a lot if burned out light bulbs (which contributed to the atmosphere). It all looked very normal and thus weird for a dream.
Then I woke up. It's going to be a strange day.
_________________ "You can't eat real Polynesian food. It's the most horrible junk I've ever tasted." —Trader Vic Bergeron