Thomas Friedman, Beautiful Artichokes and Weird Dreams

I went to the Yankees-A's game last night, enjoyed a number of very expensive beverages and some wildly unhealthy food. Some hours later, I had quite a bizarre dream.

I was working for some sort of organization -- it was a publication, but we were putting on an event of some kind. As is often the case when I remember dreams, these details are lost to the mists of the early morning hours.  

I had a mission: to secure a large quantity of artichokes. I had to go to a wholesaler, and there were many obstacles before me, although I don't quite remember what they were. Anyway, I had to navigate a labyrinthian route through back alleys in a deserted industrial neighborhood.

I came across a warehouse, and asked a guy with a forklift where I could find artichokes. "Right here," he said, and then he had a huge box full of the most beautiful artichokes I'd ever seen. They were big, and their leaves were tight, and they glowed purple and pink in the muted light streaming in from these small windows at the top of the structure.

I filled a smaller box, and -- I don't know why, but this is the detail I remember most vividly -- he shocked me by saying, "$2.50." 'Wow,' I thought. 'That's a bargain!' 

Then he said: "But You can't give any of them to that guy who's obsessed with China." "Thomas Friedman?" I asked. "Yes," he said, "that guy's an idiot and he can't have any."

The End.