Running through the most golden wheat field I could’ve ever imagined (I swear I’m not a british PM), on the side of a hill that went on to the horizon. Behind me, hauling ass, was the mystery machine with no driver. On top of the mystery machine was Cliff Burton, Bo Bonham, and Jimi Hendrix playing purple haze. I woke up as I stopped running and just started floating.
Either that, or the time I dreamt I accidentally killed a romantic partner in my sleep in a huge hotel that looked like something out of Brazil. As I woke up (in the dream), the bed was covered in blood and the police was banging on my door. I pushed an armoire into the door frame, broke a window, and jumped out. Then I woke up.
There’s this belizean hot sauce called Marie Sharp’s, I get the gold one. Doesn’t sting me at all, my family can’t handle heat, but it does the job well enough.
My favourite however is Salsa Macha. Can’t get dried pepper where I’m at though, or I’d make it myself. Goes great with just about anything, even compound butter slathered bbq steaks.