The Food Offer Dream

Dreams last night were like I was watching through a kaleidoscope. Not much stayed with me.

One section I remember was a stylish, older woman asking me if I’d eaten. Post Malone’s song, “Circles”, played in the background. We were in a très modern house. Before I could answer her, she said, “You look as if you’re famished. We have very good food here.”

Before I replied — I was thinking that I’d politely turn her down — a tall white man with gray hair and matching goatee entered from another hall, to my right. She introduced him as my chef and said that he would feed me. The man said, “Yes, I make wonderful food, everyone says so. Tell me, what would you like to eat?” He was not dressed as a chef, but wore a black shirt under a light gray sport coat.

At that point, I said, “I’m not hungry,” but the woman at the same time said, “I’ll leave you two to it.” She left.

The man said, “Here, come this way, my kitchen is just here.”

I said, “I’m not hungry.”

We rounded a corner. A large kitchen was to the left. Dark, glistening counters were filled with plates of food. The man gestured toward them. “What would you like? Just help yourself. If you don’t see anything that you want, I can make it for you.”

I was still taking in the food. Besides the kitchen, a breakfast bar was covered with food. Past that was a well-lit dining room, with a table and buffet heaped with food. I saw roasts, turkeys, grapes, and bowls of fruit.

The man said, “Are you a person who likes to stand up or sit down when you eat?”

The segment ended.

###

Another that I remember was a montage of my late mother-in-law saying, “I suppose.” That was like her catchall phrase. Do you want to eat? Would you like Chinese food? Do you mind if we do x and x? To almost every query, she replied, “I suppose.” That’s all the dream segment was: her saying, in various ways, at different ages and settings, “I suppose.”

Snow Blame

head feels like lead

you’re stuck in bed

blame it on the snow

blame it on the snow

 

you’re feeling low

and have nowhere to go

blame it on the snow

blame it on the snow

 

life is passing you by

counting days until you die

blame it on the snow

blame it on the snow

 

stuffing your face

with cheese and cake

blame it on the snow

blame it on the snow

 

can’t get to work

pet’s acting like a jerk

blame it on the snow

blame it on the snow

 

nothing’s on tv

not live or on the stream

blame it on the snow 

blame it on the snow

 

can’t find a mate

being alone is your fate

blame it on the snow

blame it on the snow

 

you can’t tell a lie

you ate too much pie

blame it on the snow

blame it on the snow

 

it’s a day without sun

now you’ve got the runs

blame it on the snow

blame it on the snow

blame it on the snow

 

The Puzzle Dream

It was a challenge to put this dream together, which is so much like a jigsaw. Ironic, as I was making jigsaw puzzles in the dream.

Which is where memories say, this is how it started. Outside, among other people but working alone, I was making and putting together a jigsaw puzzle. When I finished, I had an operating and functional car. I don’t know what kind it was, except that it was a dark, sleek sports car. I was so pleased with it that I was emitting a little, “Yea,” as I surveyed it while circling it.

Others noticed my completed car puzzle and approached with astonishment and appreciation. Most said, “That’s amazing,” or, “That’s so cool.” I was agreeing with them. People asked if it worked, and I started it up for them, showing that it ran. Others asked if I could do it again, and if I could do it with more than cars.

Which I could. I kept producing things of all sizes and manner. I’d make something flat and one-dimensional, cut it up, and then create a real, functioning thing from it. People were amazed. I’d impressed myself, too, but my confident was rising. I thought, I can do this, then I can do so much more. My mind was spinning with the possibilities.

I ended up at a fête, a large, elaborate, but casual affair. I was one of several featured guests. Numerous celebrities were in residence. All made it a point to meet me, shake my hand, and congratulate me on my puzzles.

Several people asked if I could make them jigsaw puzzles. I found that I could. If they could give me a photograph, I’d cut it up and create a bust from them. Then I started doing it with phones. I could take a photo on a cell phone, draw it up into the air, and duplicate it as a full-sized image or bust, depending on the image.

I ended up in a white pavilion. People began settling at tables to eat. Vince Vaughn approached me. Trying to place me, he said, “That’s right, you’re that guy who makes those things.” I realized that he was drunk.

A hockey game was going on beside us. He didn’t understand the rules, because he was going by the old rules, and they’d changed. I started explaining that to him, but he walked off to another table. Watching him, I waited for him to return so I could finish explaining.

The dream ended.

Saying Good-bye

It’s time. I didn’t want to face it, putting the reasonable off, but finally acquiescing to what needed to be done: I was replacing my Tilley hat.

I’ve had it for a number of years. Like a good companion, it’s with me all the time. I wear it all the time when walking and about ninety-five percent of the time when I’m outdoors.

It shows; the color has faded. Five inch horizontal rips gap along the crown’s front, nicely complimenting the small two inch vertical tears. I’ve taped them together.

The Tilley comes with a Guarantee-for-Life replacement policy. I went to their website and filled out the form. They responded within a few days.

Hello,

Thank you for submitting your request. We would be happy to help you with your Guaranteed for Life claim.

We do require some additional information to determine the eligibility of your item. Please reply to this email with 3 photos (.jpeg preferred as small a file as possible) of the following:

    1. A photo showing the entire item
    2. A photo to clearly show the qualifying damage
    3. A photo of the inside label. This should show the words “Guaranteed for Life”

Once we receive these photos from you, we will review them and determine the eligibility of your item. You will receive an email from us within 2 business days with your next steps.

That was done. A few more days passed.

Then came their answer.

Thank you for submitting your photos. We have assessed your item and agree that it qualifies for the Guaranteed for Life Policy.

Your Guarantee Identification Number is RMA#G00665

Good news! You no longer have to return your item to us in order to get a replacement!

In order to complete your request, we require the following information:

    1. Credit card information for shipping fee –
      • $12.00 CAD OR $9.50 USD  $35.00 USD international . Your credit card will only be charged at the time of shipping.
      • you may contact us at 1-800-363-8737 and leave your credit card number with any agent. Please use your RMA# as reference.
    1. Proof of destruction Photos –
      • We must confirm that your old hat is no longer usable before we can honor a replacement hat.
      • Please Write the RMA# clearly on the hat. If the hat is a dark colour, you may write the RMA# on a white piece of paper and include it in the photo
      • Cut off the crown (The top part) of the hat.
      • Take a photo of this so the removed crown and the RMA# are visible. Save as a .jpeg in the smallest size possible

Once we have received your photos and credit card information, you order will then be processed. Please allow up to 2 weeks for your replacement hat to be shipped. We will email you once your order has shipped.

Destroy my hat? Shudders swept me as I read these words. Yet…yet…the time had arrived. The Tilley was failing. I needed a new hat.

So I took the Tilley for a final walk in the snow. After he dried out, the cats gathered. I played taps on Youtube, cut off the crown, and took the ghastly pictures.

IMG_0984

The deed is done. Now I await my new hat.

 

Crumbs

Crumbs populated his keyboard, slipping between the keys, forcing him to ponder, what did I eat and when did I eat it?

That made him hungry. He attempted to pick some crumbs up for closer examination, and perhaps to taste — just for investigative reasons, of course (that one looked like it may have come off a chocolate-chip cookie) (when did he eat a chocolate chip cookie?) -but the crumbs fled his efforts like kittens scattering at a noise, undermining his investigative process.

It did promote a greater appetite (if he trusted the messages that his stomach was issuing). Nothing healthy was offered for sale here, and he didn’t want to leave to eat somewhere else. Therefore, his logic forced him into a less healthy choice, which turned out to be a raspberry scone.

It was just a one-time deal, he told himself, so it would do no lasting harm.

He blamed it on the crumbs.

Raining Color Dream

After thinking about dreams and posting today’s theme music (“Highway Star”, Deep Purple, 1972), I was fixing brekkie when a dream segment blasted into memory.

I was a child, maybe nine or ten, but could’ve younger, outside with many other children. Blue sky, sunshine, laughing, and game-playing established the background. We were having a great time.

I was heading toward a picnic table by tall pine trees when I heard others gasping. That caused me to look up. When I did, I discovered it was raining. No clouds were visible, but rain was falling.

A bold, shimmering rainbow formed. It seemed like it was right over our heads, so close and solid that we were trying to jump up and touch it. Then the rain became drops of falling color. The colors splashed over us, making us giddy with laughter. We discovered we could cup our hands and catch handfuls of color and pour them over ourselves and one another. Blues, purples, reds, yellows, oranges, and greens were pooling on the ground and streaming together into rainbows that flowed across the land.

Splashing and stomping in these flowing rainbows, we discovered that we could pick up the colored water and shape it like very wet and malleable clay.

The dream ended.

My heart rushes as I remember it.

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: