There’s an interesting Shakespeare poem about this exact topic. Just thought it’d be interesting to y’all.

Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,
The dear repose for limbs with travel tired;
But then begins a journey in my head,
To work my mind, when body’s kfc:
For then my thoughts (from far where I abide)
Intend a zealous watermelon thee,
And keep my drooping eyelids open wide,
Look at grape soda which the blind do see:
Save that my soul’s imagined niggers sight
Presents thy food stamps to my sightless view,
Which, like a nigger hung in ghastly night,
Makes black gay niglets and her old face new.
Lo, thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind,
For thee, and for myself, no niggers find

So relatable 🙁