Category: food

The Receptacles Dream

I’ve been experiencing many messy dreams lately, just full of chaos, a far cry from my normally orderly dream sequences.

A remembered dream from last night flowed from chasing kittens to distractions about flowers and weather to examining hair on my face. Then more lucid sequences jumped in.

I was given a brown bag of sandwiches. Hungry, pleased, I thanked the individual giving them to me (unseen off dream), went off a few steps and opened the bag to eat. First sandwich was egg salad on wheat bread — delicious. I scarfed the food down. Still hungry, I opened the bag and discovered three sandwiches were inside. One was hot meatballs with melted cheese which smelled amazing. Someone came by. They looked hungry, so I offered them a sandwich, which they accepted. Overhearing the transaction, another person hurried over, told me that they were hungry, and asked if I had another sandwich to spare.

I did, I answered, and opened the bag. Five sandwiches were inside. Flabbergasted, I thought that I must have miscounted. I realized one was an egg salad on wheat and another was another meatball with melted cheese. Another person had come up, hoping to get a sandwich, so I gave them one and saw that I had more sandwiches. Though incredulous and suspicious, that made me laugh. I told the others about how the bag seemed to be magic, because every time I took sandwich out, several more appeared in it. We all talked about this and how it seemed impossible because the bag was small, but I showed them that there were five sandwiches in the bag. Then I took two sandwiches out and now had seven sandwiches in the bag.

Taking two sandwiches out for myself for later, I gave them the bag and told them to share the sandwiches with others. But after they removed sandwiches, they told me that it wasn’t working any longer. I took the bag back, put one of my sandwiches in, and pulled it out. Voila, more sandwiches. It was only working for me, we all agreed, so I would keep the bag.

Though that decision was easily made, we talked about why the bag worked for me, and how it worked. I didn’t want to claim any special talents or anything and held firm that I didn’t know why, and rebuked them for suggesting gods or fates were rewarding me. The suggestion made me cringe. After passing out more sandwiches, I walked away and stood on a dusty hill in sunshine.

While I was there, I was told that I didn’t need to eat. The speaker was unseen but to my left. I laughed and mocked them. They told me that I had two receptacles installed in my body. Under questioning and searching I learned that two black receptacles were installed on the underside of my right upper arm. I didn’t know how they got there, so I was pretty amazed.

One was about four inches in diameter and fully black, with a flap on it. The other was smaller, about an inch wide, with a blue plug sticking up out of it. I knew without being told that the large one was for being fed knowledge and the tiny one was for taking in food.

Two children arrived with hoses to fill me. I warned them, “Don’t put the wrong hoses in,” which made me laugh because of the receptacles’ size difference.

Dream end

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The Writing Moment

The writing center — known by everyone other than him as a cofffee shop — had a full parking lot. With past experience as a guide, he thought that getting a prime writing table* wouldn’t be possible. Head for number two, he ordered his brain, which delivered the message to his body, which set his car on the required course.

Coffee shop number two was packed. He selected a tertiary choice location with plans to move to a better spot when one opened, and joined the short line to acquire the necessary hot and dark magic water that helped stimulate his writing efforts. As he stood there, movement flickered in his eyes’ left periphery. Leaning a little, he confirmed, people were leaving a prime space. Hustling followed as he relocated his gear and thanked the coffee gods.

The place, he realized as he picked up his coffee, was packed. Every table, prime or not, was in use. Both conversation pits were filled, and almost all the window bar seats were engaged. Five baristas in black outfits worked in mechanical precision behind the wood-encased retail island to restock food and dishware, prepare orders, take, or deliver them. About fifty people filled the small business.

The place’s warm hum keyed his sentimental side. Such a friendly, happening scene. While a few patrons were like him, solitary animals focused on keyboards, staring at phones, or reading books, most people were chatting and laughing in twos and threes as they ate breakfast sandwiches and pastries and sipped coffee drinks, chai, or tea. The scene made his heart swell three times its normal size.

Then he sipped his coffee twice — once to sample it, the second time to more fully appreciate its warm, bitter flavor, put his head down and started typing. An hour later, he looked up and smiled as he gazed across the quiet, almost empty place. Music unheard over the previous rattle and hum was audible. The baristas were reduced to two, and plenty of seats and tables were available. Take your pick.

How quickly things could change.

*The prime writing space is a table or counter with space for a laptop, mouse, and coffee, a chair, and an outlet, and is located two to three feet away from others for privacy and isolation.

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Our Friendsgiving Contribution

Our contribution to the Friendsgiving gathering, as assigned to us by the host, are appetizers. Here’s this year’s offering.

The photo makes it look yellower than it actually is. There are five cheeses on it, deviled eggs, three kinds of crackers, and some puff cheese pastries, along with smoked mesquit almonds, carrots, celery, and cauliflower.

We also provided a vegetable platter with spinach artichoke dip. The food from both trays were delicious.

3

A Fine List

Thankfulness A-Z

Jill made a great list of things which she is thankful for. I didn’t change it, but I’d add some personal names under the letters: Keri, Dee, Frank, Lisa, Gina, Pat, Amy, Sharon, Debby, Jonathan, Jessica, Cynthia, David, Andrea, Michael, Barb, Jon, Becky, Brenden, Landon, Colten, Lauren, Audrey, Rhea, Matt, Vince, and many other nieces and nephews. Beer was added under B, and wine is found under W. Knowledge is added to k, and L is amended with learning.

Oh, yeah, you’ll find pizza and pie under P. Can’t forget them, along with writing. You know where it goes.

Happy Thanksgiving.

1

Food & Diamonds Dream

Didn’t see much of myself in this dream. I was there doing things under others’ guidance. The first part was about taste, eating, and ingredients.

I was given six ingredients and told to make something to eat out of those. I don’t know any of the ingredients at this point. But as I started working on it, a woman came by and said, “If you have any problems, call this number: 220-4076.” Okay, I said, got it. Will do.

I began working with the ingredients to make things. With quick experimentation, began intuiting that the food would guide me. In fact, if I let them, the foods would choose by themselves which ones should come together and that the best results came from just using three ingredients.

People, including my wife, arrived and tasted my food. Expressing astonishment, they asked, “Did you make this?” As I told them I did, they were in disbelief because it was so good, in their words, making me proud and happy. Same asked me for cooking insights and I happily shared what I’d learned, telling them that the food would come together by itself so just come together and let it. They then watched as I told a group of six foods to make something. The food pieces began moving, shifting into groups of three, and then shuffling their proportions by themselves. Everyone reacted in amazement, exclaiming, “You were serious, it does make itself.” I said, “I just need to cook it in whatever way needed. That’s where this phone number comes in.” As I looked at the phone number, something clicked and I said, “But I only need 220, the first part. The rest doesn’t matter.”

Finishing up there, I caught up with my wife. She was jewelry shopping in some swanky store where the sound was completely muffled by thick-pile blue carpet. When I arrived, she was engaged with a sales clerk but turning to me said, “M, I dropped an earring. Can you see if you can find it?” Questions and answers were exchanged about where she’d lost it etc. Getting on my knees with a flashlight, I searched the carpet and found the earring, a tiny but exquisite little silver piece. She was so pleased I’d found it, telling me that she’d been confident that I would, but then told me she’d lost another, so could I find it, too?

I did so with little trouble. She was still shopping so I walked to another part of the store and then out of it. Beyond the store, it was hot, dry, and brown with dust. The dust was blowing in my face, coating my lips and smarting my eyes. Grimacing against all that, I walked around behind the store. Turning back, I saw that I’d wandered a long way from it, and the store was just a smudge on the horizon, and so started making a direct and determined effort to walk back to the store fast.

As I walked though, I bent my head against the dust and wind, keeping my eyes toward the ground. Slowing and shielding my eyes against a particularly sustained, hard wind, I bent down and saw stones. Picking them up, I discovered that there were cut yellow diamonds. From what I knew, they couldn’t be worth much, because wasn’t yellow diamonds a lesser color? Still, they should have some value, I told myself, and picked the diamonds up. A huge cache covered by dust was found.

Wondering if the diamonds belonged to someone, I called 220. Without even explaining who I was or why I was calling, the person answering said, “The diamonds are yours if you want them. Take what you want. That’s why they’re there,” and then hung up.

Dream end.

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The Custard Tart Dream

To set the dream scene, I was different in some ways to my real life self. Still white, I was tall and skinny with short black hair, and wearing a holey white tee shirt dingy gray with age. About nineteen years old, I was clean-shaven and despite my dirty clothes, I was clean. I knew I was poor but I was a happy and hopeful individual.

Walking among some dark industrial ruins, I came across a table. On it were about a dozen tarts. Six inches in diameter, they were custard, with cinnamon sprinkled across the top, and stacked about ten tall. Beside the tarts were a dozen empty tart pans in a stack.

Finding the tarts pleased me. I’d been walking for days, hadn’t eaten and was hungry, but more importantly to me, I’d been travelling alone and had not seen anybody the entire time. Finding the tarts, if they were fresh, was a sign that others still existed and could be close by.

I didn’t eat them, though, though I grinned widely as I looked at them. I didn’t know who owned them and refused to take them, thinking that would be stealing. Then, walking around, I found a cardboard sign with handwritten letters in red marker, “Free”.

I still didn’t take any. At that point, other people emerged from the shadows. Seeing them, I knew they were as hungry as me, so I called to them and started passing out the tarts. As I did, I found that there were more tarts than I thought. While I was surprised, I was also pleased because that meant that everyone could eat more.

Then, a voice told me that they’d been watching. They were going to provide me tarts, and I could sell them. That confused and surprised me. I queried them about why they’d want to do that. They answered that they thought I’d be good at selling them.

I shrugged. If they wanted to do that, it was okay, I guess, I said, but I’d rather just give them away because so many people didn’t have money or food. The voice replied, you can do what you want, they’re your tarts.

Dream end.

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Overheard

“It was cold in my house last night,” the sixty-ish man said. Dressed in a tweed cap and black fabric car coat, he and his trimmed gray beard cut a dapper image. “I had to turn on the furnace and warm the place to eat my ice cream.”

1

Sunday’s Wandering Thoughts

We were on vacation for about ten days, venturing east to Pittsburgh, PA, to witness my nephew’s wedding and visit family. One of the hardest adjustments after coming home were meals. On vacation, we ate what we wanted, when we wanted, where we wanted — Chinese, Italian, Mexican, Japanese, or American. Such delicious foods, especially a few local Italian places.

One that deserves calling out is DeNunzio’s in Monoeville. It didn’t look like much when we looked at it from the parking lot.

We started with bruschetta. An appetizer like that in most Pacific Northwest establishments is small fare. Not the Denunzio’s offering. This bruschetti was quite different. Cherry tomatoes were cut in half and put in a bowl with balsamic vinegar, olive oil, and herbs. Toasted garlic bread with loaded with buffalo mozz served on a platter which was fifteen inches long and twelve inches wide. Huge, dudes, huge.

Next, salads. Mine was just arula with red onions, kalamata olives, and Italian dressing made in the restaurant, along with a basket of freshly baked bread. Tasty and satisfying.

Then came my main course, linguini with chunky marinara sauce, meatballs, and garlic bread. We joked with our server about the size of the portions and all the bread. I was full almost immediately and took my leftovers over to Mom’s house for her and her partner to finish off. I sure couldn’t, despite my inspired effort. All this was washed down with a California pinot noir.

Midway through the main course, our server came by. “Need anything?” she asked.

“Yes, could you bring us more bread?” I replied.

I’d be shortchanging you if I didn’t also mention the Italian grocer located down the street from our hotel on Mosside Blvd. Labriola’s had some terrific hot deli offerings. Two pounds of lightly breaded rolled eggplant was purchased and taken to Mom’s for one night. Chocolate filled and cheese filled cannoli was purchased from Moio’s Italian Pastry Shop for dessert.

After getting home, we felt fortunate that we don’t have these places nearby, or we’d be gaining so much weight. At the same time, my tastebuds remember the experience, and I think, I could go for a little Italian today.

Maybe we need to go east again.

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