I had a dream last night that my friend Andy cut his hands off and gave them to me because I wanted a “hand makeover.” Apparently his hands were the only pair that would do. He more than happily obliged by severing them at the wrists, taking out the bones (I only needed the hide), and packing them up in a padded, refrigerated envelope. How he did all of this without the use of his hands, I have no idea. This part was vague. I just remember taking the padded envelope and heading to the plastic surgeon. On the way, I stopped in a number of fun stores that sold things like Dirty Girl soap and Madlibs. While browsing, I ran into my friend Jim. Forgetting about the hands, I spent the afternoon with him, trying on clothes and drinking in a local bar. It wasn’t until the package began to reek, that I remembered the hands. The smell in my dream was so pungent that it woke me out of my sleep with a start.
I wouldn’t even know how to begin interpretting this one.