Tag: food

The Friends & Neighbors Dream

As the dream starts, my wife and I are in bed. I’ve awakened but she’s asleep. Gray light slipping through the upper windows makes me believe that it’s early morning. Cats are up and want fed. I oblige.

My neighbor comes in. I’m surprised and confused, wondering how he got in and why he’s there now. He’s apologizing for his behavior (no, not for coming in, but for other things). Not invested in that at the moment — it’s early, I haven’t had my coffee, and the cats are clamoring for attention — I basically try to dismiss him and get him back out. Then he asks to use our bathroom because his girlfriend is asleep in his place and he doesn’t want to wake her. I work out with a glance around that ‘his place’ is a door off the my living room. I don’t understand that arrangement at all. Concluding that his girlfriend is asleep in there, I close the door. He comes out of my bathroom, goes over, and opens that door again, explaining that he needs to keep an eye on her.

My wife awakens and joins me. I attempt to explain what’s going on, but things are becoming more chaotic by the second. Sunshine is streaming through the windows. I’m hungry. I go to find food. Before I can, others interrupt me.

The next thing I know, I’m outside of the house in a hilly, bushy terrain, and I’m putting up signs. They’re simple signs, white heavy cardboard on slender pieces of pointed, cut wood. I don’t know what the signs say; they seem to change as I look at them. Sometimes, I find that the signs that I’ve put up have been pulled out of the ground or aren’t there, exasperating the hell out of me. It’s like I’ll never finish.

Meanwhile, I notice that there’s food under bushes and trees — pancakes, wraps, burritos, sandwiches. Debating about whether I should pick them up as garbage, I decide to leave them there for animals to eat. As I continue rushing around, putting up signs, I encounter friends. None of these people is anyone that I know. Some complain that when I’m putting up signs, I’m in their way. They want me to move. I protest, why should I be the one to move? I need to put up these signs. Yes, I’m told, but it’s easier for you to pause, move aside, and let us go on, and then resume. I agree, just to end the stalemate.

I notice that the food under the bushes isn’t being touched. I thought birds or animals would’ve tone after it, then shrug it off.

My hunger has increased. Hearing music, I realize that a Beatles song is playing. As the melody flows, I recognize “With A Little Help From My Friends”. I don’t know where it’s coming from. Setting the signs aside, I think, I am so hungry, I  must find something to eat. As I do, a woman at a neighboring house opens her front door and steps out onto her porch. “I’m making spaghetti,” she declares in a loud voice. “Who wants some?”

“I do,” I answer as others say, “Me.” We rush her house.

The dream ends.

 

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The Déjà Vu Dream

I believe it was a dream. But —

I often enjoy oatmeal for breakfast. Berries, fruit, and nuts are frequently added for taste and nutrition.

A large bag of walnut pieces is kept in the refrigerator (so they won’t go rancid). As I pulled them out, I flashed on the bag falling open. Walnut pieces poured out.

Standing there, I didn’t recall anything like that happening to me, and thought that it was a dream. It seemed so startling real that I looked around to see if any walnuts were in the refrigerator or on the floor.

I remembered then that I’d been talking to someone as I was doing this. Music had been playing in the background. I was aware of the music and recognized it but I don’t know what it was now.

So many walnuts poured out of the back, it seemed like half of the bag had emptied. Yet, when I closed the bag, I was surprised to discover it was still almost full. But the refrigerator drawer had enough walnuts in it to fill another bag.

Whoever was with me hadn’t noticed anything going on, so I said, “Look at this. Look at all these walnuts.”

They asked, “Where’d they come from?”

Holding up the bag, I said, “From this bag. But the bag is still almost full.”

The other came over and looked. “Yeah, that’s something.”

End of dream (or memory).

I am about ninety percent certain that it was a dream. Thinking about it as I finished making my oatmeal, I chuckled to myself. Was I telling myself that I was nuttier than I realized?

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After I typed this out, I saw a photo of a squirrel on the net. The photo triggered a fuller memory. The walnut incident was a dream last night.

After the walnuts had spilled out, etc., the dream continued. I’d gone outside. Two cats were present. One was ours and the other belonged to a neighbor. (Neither are cats that I know/recognize from life.)

My wife and I were trying to keep ourselves safe, along with the cats. To that end, the cats were kept in a  large and hilly fenced yard with many trees, but the cats kept getting out. I kept asking, “How are these cats getting out?” Watching them, I’d discover a secret path or a hole in the fence and block it only to see them out there again, and discover that another secret way existed.

The neighbor’s cat then came in through a secret tunnel with a squirrel in their mouth. The squirrel was alive. I then noticed the yard had many squirrels. I concluded that the cat was going out, finding squirrels, capturing them, and bringing them in. As I realized this, I saw her coming in through another underground tunnel, carrying another squirrel in her mouth.

I told my wife what I was seeing. Then, remembering the walnuts, I rushed inside, got the bag of walnuts, and brought them out to feed the squirrels.

Dream ended.

 

 

 

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The Cookies

“The cookies are easy to make,” she told Cindy after sharing the recipe with her. “You should make them when your grandchildren come up. They came up. It’d be fun.”

“Good idea. I will.”

A few days later, Barb ran into Cindy. “We made the cookies,” Cindy said.

“And…?”

“They burned.”

“What?”

“Tell me the recipe again.”

“You start with tortillas and cut them out with cookie cutters.”

“I did that.”

“Then you put them on the baking sheet and brush them with butter.”

“Butter! You didn’t mention butter.”

“I think I did…but, after you brush them with butter, you dust them with cinnamon and sugar.”

“Sugar! You didn’t say anything about sugar.”

“Do you want me to send you an email with the recipe?”

“No, I’ll have my son-in-law find them for me.”

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The Dreams Return – Lost Shoe, Found Dog

The dreams returned, which is reassuring. I dream often and vividly, and not having dreams was having a friend away. Good to have them back.

I found myself camping with friends. I say camping, but it was a shelter — roof, floor, and walls, cutouts for windows but sans glass — although it did have a door — where we stayed. That event took place and the others I camped with left to cross the river.

I went to places unknown and then returned to camp again. Unplanned, I lacked food, gear, and shoes. Just trying to figure out how I was going to handle that when I heard the door open.

A woman with her children had arrived to stay for the week. Speaking with them, I discovered that I’d been camping with the woman’s husband the week before. I told them I’d vacate the shelter for them, but they waved that offer away, and offered me their food.

I then I had one shoe (black walking shoe) but not the other. How — where — when — did I lose my shoe? As I’m walking around in one shoe, a small, injured animal, a dog, arrived. I recognized it as an animal I’d been feeding the previous week and that it was a pet that belonged to my neighbor. Grey and brown, the dog resembled a fox. Its wound concerned me. I cleaned the wound with help from the woman, and then fed the dog. The dog seemed pleased and started wagging its tail.

The dream ended.

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Solstice Celebration

2019 Solstice celebration at my house in photos, including two (of the three) wise cats who attended (Papi, aka Meep – the ginger boy, and Tucker, the black and white).

Food – not shown – included spinach tortellini soup (makes me hungry to have more just typing it) and lentil, along with a variety of breads (including my favorite, an olive ciabatta bread). Dessert included gluten free apple pie (procured from a local store) and a chocolate yule log (from Market of Choice). Drinks were spiced wassail (with or without rum or brandy), and red or white wine, with coffee, tea, and hot chocolate served with dessert.

The log was burned in a fire pit in the backyard. My spouse, the woman in blue in one photo, is the force behind it. Cheers

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The Dream’s Train Segment

I was in Germany, walking along railroad tracks in the countryside. An elderly man was there. Tired, in holed clothes and mismatched shoes, he was befuddled, trying to say something and not saying much. I thought he wanted to get on the train, but I wasn’t sure. Nothing coherent came from him. While I wanted to help him, exasperation crept in; I had things to do, and he was not making sense.

I missed the train. I began to chase it. I didn’t run, but walked, and not at a fast pace. I followed a path that ran parallel to the tracks. The train would stop a bit ahead, and then, as I grew closer, take off again.

Then, I don’t know why, I decided I was going the wrong way. Reversing direction, I passed the old man again. I told him, “There’s the train, I’m going to catch it, if you want to come with me.” But he stayed where he was, in the sunshine, glancing around.

The train was stopped. I caught it, got onboard, and found my wife. She and I began shopping. It was important for her to get a supply of food. These were big emergency bags. Everyone was going for them. I didn’t think we needed them, and questioned what was in them, but she was insistent, so I took one.

Then we were walking through a department store with other shoppers. I had no idea what we wanted, so I mostly focused on killing time until the next part arrived. I was certain that was about to happen. An old friend, who was a first sergeant in the Air Force, stopped me to ask for some advice about what she should do regarding a personnel issue. As I was giving her my opinion, my wife returned looking for me. I introduced the two of them and they chatted. As that happened, others hailed me, seeking advice or help. I helped them as I could, and then my wife and I went on.

When we went on, my wife said to me, “I see what you mean. Everyone wants some part of you.”

We arrived at a cabin where we were going to stay. It was luxurious but small. I decided that I needed to prepare for the next day. I removed my clothes, which turned out to be a military uniform (light blue shirt, dark blue pants), and steam-pressed it so it would look good.

The segment ended.

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Floofberry

Floofberry (floofinition) (slang) 1. A piece of animal feces found on the floor in the house or dangling from a pet’s rear end. 2. Any type of drupe or berry contaminated by animal fur. 3. Sometimes used in jest to describe any food item covered in animal fur.

In use: “The child dropped his chocolate bonbon onto the carpet. The dogs and cat lunged for it but the mother used her mom-speed to beat them to it. Picking the chocolate up, she confirmed that it was an inedible floofberry now and tossed it into the trash.”

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Komprofloof

Komprofloof (floofinition) – Information about their owners that housepets know.

In use: “The cats and dogs had a great deal of komprofloof on Karen. Karen was supposedly such a healthy eater but her pets knew better. Although she suspected that they couldn’t and wouldn’t betray her, she always shared her secret snack foods…just in case.”

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Amuse-floofche

Amuse-floofche (floofinition) – A small complimentary appetizer offered to an animal, particularly a housepet.

In use: “She was sloppy eater but her schnauzer didn’t mind, gobbling down anything dropped like it was an amuse-floofche.”

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