Friday, October 24, 2008

Think It, Dream It ...

Mmm. Anthropomorphic veg!


For the past two nights, whatever I've been thinking about or chatting about before going to bed has shown up in my dreams each night, albeit it with typically dreamy twists. It's like there's a red phone on the desk of my subconscious, a direct line between my waking world and Sleepytown. An example? Wednesday night, as I was set up in my comfy bed in a larger-than-normal hotel room (that was "paid" for with points, not credit!), I was IMing with my pal Mike in York. (He's a terribly clever writer. You should read his blog. I mean, not right this minute, but when you're done here. I'm not gonna be ignored, Dan! [Lately, my brain thinks in movie quotes.])

Anyway, as I was saying, Mike and I were chatting – ah, laptops and wireless connections and overseas friends who stay up until insane hours – and I mentioned that hotels suit me. And he mentioned that they can be lonely places unless you're staying somewhere small and personal and the proprietors invite you into their kitchen to have a slice of freshly baked bread or something. (Methinks Mike has stayed somewhere small and personal where the proprietors have invited him into their kitchen for a slice of freshly baked bread or something.)

And that night, after I turned off the TV (flat screen) and lamp (compact florescent) and drifted off to dreamland, I found myself dreaming of Mike in a small kitchen with some people I'd never seen before but who are, no doubt, proprietors of a small and personal lodging situation, and Mike was cutting a slice of ... the most ginormous cucumber I'd ever seen. Or dreamt of. Or imagined. (Or is dreaming the same as imagining?)

Now, lest you start analyzing that part of the dream, it wasn't a whole cucumber. It was already cut in half (and you really don't want to analyze that), so that in my dream I was seeing the cut end of the cucumber and it was indeed astonishing, like five or six inches across.

Mike was cutting a thick slice, like a slice of bread. Like a cucumber discus.

Last night's dream was more literal (no giant cucumbers involved) and tinged with sadness actually, so I won't go into it here, lest I kill the happy vibe created by the description of supersized produce (and also because, sheesh, a girl's gotta have some secrets; most of my life is an open book here), but it'll be interesting to see if I can keep the streak alive for a third night.

Now, hmm ... I wonder what I should think about tonight. Puppies? Rainbows? Cheetos? Cheetos-eating puppies sliding down rainbows?

Or, perhaps, Liam Neeson. Cheetos optional.


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