Oh the subconscious adventures of sleeping Jennifer!
I was in school and living in the campus dormitory. The way these rooms were set up, there was a common area (kitchen, living room, bathroom) with two bedrooms attached. My roommate was a flamboyant male-to-female transgender with an affinity for short skirts and white go-go boots. I have no idea when she ever got to her studies as it seemed she was always up to some kind of crazy shenanigans which I invariably got reluctantly roped into.
In the latest scheme, she had devised a wildly popular intoxicating beverage that she was selling around campus. I refused to partake in this concoction since I knew how it was made, a process that took place in a crock-pot utilizing a giant hamburger named Bernard. He was huge and greasy and his buns were stale. I found Bernard to be repulsive and evicted him and his crock-pot from the common kitchen.
This led to several arguments with my roommate as I kept finding Bernard in various locations around the apartment. ‘No, you cannot keep Bernard in the bathroom. I brush my teeth in there.’ And a rather heated discussion when I arrived home to find that my roommate had company and so had stashed Bernard in my room so as to not reveal her secret ingredient to her guests/customers.
As entropy demands, eventually Bernard went bad (worse?). And again, I was reluctantly roped into some madcap hijinx aimed at finding a replacement for Bernard. Which culminated into us throwing a giant party complete with DJ, a light show, and multiple disco balls, because reasons.
Yeah, I don’t know either. I woke up just as confused as you are right now. Probably more so. I do find it hilarious that I cannot recall whether or not my roommate had a name, but the hamburger most certainly did.