There I was, in my kitchen, in a dream, with a cabbage in my hands. It was a long slender cabbage and it fell in half as I moved it through the air, the sides still attached by several cabbage strands. An estranged friend was there, nervous and making small talk with someone else. The outer strata of the cabbage were slightly brown and soft, I questioned the utility of the vegetable. My friend was now thin and clothed in designer garb. He had pierced an ear. Acknowledging me he tried to speak but the words I expected to be an explanation stuck in his throat. I tore off half the cabbage and threw it in the trash.
I suppose only time will tell whether you threw away the right half.