Biology
So. Last night I had this dream.. well I had more than one dream, but this morning I had a really... strange one. Well they were both strange.
ANYWAY.
So the one this morning, I don't remember the whole thing, the context or whatever. All I know is that I was with this group of vaguely familiar people who I can't identify now. We were all on the side of this mountain in this rainforest city which I guess might have been in Africa? We were all in this building and there was war not far away. Something was happening and at some point some guy said that they were going to break a damn, and as a result, everyone was going to move uphill and we'd be flooded with these refugees (who I'm not sure you could even call refugees since the war/violence was just going to follow them uphill to the place we all were).
I guess a few of us weren't that afraid because we stayed.
Then the dream swung in a different direction and suddenly we're all sitting on this porch outside amid all of this war noise insanity and we're talking about books. Actually what we're doing is talking about analysis of books. It goes something like the leader brings up someone's paper and the other people talk about it and then the person talks about it. And I didn't get to talk about my paper. But the conversations continued and when a similiar thing came around I raised my hand and the person was all "You wrote about this" (meaning, You already spoke to this topic), and I explained that we kind of skimmed over me. And then I continued.
And this is what I said.
"I think it's really interesting... or really important rather to realize that he's a writer writing about a writer. I think it really sets up the whole question of language and the inability to effectively communicate---to really peg down a meaning" *which, past the word "language" is all a vague summation of some point I was making that I can't remember now*
and I continued
"I think the part where the little boy" (who is African--or from whatever country this story/dream takes place in) "asks the woman" (who is some kind of white foreigner--so there's a color difference to be seen) "if she is his mother... I think it really speaks to the constructed reality of race and nationality and expresses the innocence of the basic human need to connect and feel loved. The child doesn't see what we would think are obvious hints to the contrary... all he sees is a woman and a possibility for a family that he hasn't ever really known." (He doesn't know anything about race OR family, but the knowledge of mother is instinct... or something... that trumps race/nationality)

Which is why I'm writing this entry. Cause that sounds so... moving. And... Big. And ... important. And I really wish the book were real cause it sounds good :( But it's all just some made up nonsense in my head and I'm not the kind of writer who can write something like that.

So I guess that's all I have to say.
That and my stomach hurts and I'm hungry, but I'm afraid eating will make it worse.