Last night I woke from a dream with this peculiar phrase repeating itself in my half-conscious brain: "it fills my onion heart with fear and trembling."
I have a couple of questions to ask of my capricious dreamatorium, which although capable of creating passable iambic pentameter is rarely self-explanatory.
a) What is "it?" What is the nameless dread that precipitated this piece of blank verse, and b) what in the living heck is an "onion heart." And why am I accused of having one? Is an "onion heart" pungent and tasty, when eaten either raw or sauteed? Or is it layered with a succession of scales and therefore mysterious and perhaps unknowable.
Frankly, I don't have a good theory, except to say that I don't feel that to be described as having an "onion heart" is complimentary. If my dreamatorium wanted to say something nice about my heart, it had such relevant and easily available alternatives as "lionheart" or "braveheart." Or even "sweetheart," for goodness sake.
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