First, I’m having a conversation with my dad. My siamese fighting fish, The Dude, is sitting in a bowl on the table. Well, actually, there are about twenty copies of him in the bowl. My dad takes a giant pot of boiling water and pours it into the bowl, telling me “it’s good for them.” My fish die. I start crying and yelling and punching him.
Then, the scene shifts (I think the phone must have rang) and I’m with my girlfriend. We’re in a hotel. We’re trying to have sex, but we can’t, because each room we go into has someone already in it. And they’re all having sex. Eventually we find an empty room; we start to kiss, and I notice that I’m no longer kissing her, but my best female friend instead.
I see two possibilities:
My subconscious has started writing for The Young and the Restless without telling me, or,