Had a scary dream, to go with the general sense of dread that permeates my life these days. The dream was triggered by Brian Forment describing his upcoming visit to Mexico City, to relatives who suffered a loss of one of their own about a decade ago to an armed robber at an ATM machine. I dreamed that I was in Mexico City, and a man dressed like a classic Mexican wrestler, but with panty hose over the usual head mask, casually walked up and shot a random newspaper boy. A mad panic ensued, and I unwisely started running up a steep hill. Then I awoke. What does it mean? Who knows? But I wanted someone like Ricky Romero, the TV wrestler hero of my Albuquerque childhood, to appear and make things right again.
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