Last night, I had a lobster dream.
In my dream, I was at the Maine Lobster Festival with a whole bunch of people.
They were eating fresh boiled giant red lobsters. The lobsters were not cooked well, so some of them were still moving on the table, stretching their legs, sprawling and rattling.
And everyone was naked. Their loose skins were hanging from their decayed bodies, and they used their bare hands trying to grab the half-alive lobsters and open the shells and eat the half-cooked-half-alive meats. And red-yellow colored blood was dripping from the mouths and hands of people. Their hands were long and bent and moving clumsily, like lobster legs.
I could not tell the difference between lobster-eating human beings and half-dead-half-alive lobsters.
They were all immersed together into a group of mad wild animals.