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An epic dream

Last night, I had a spicy pizza about an hour before bed, an activity I encourage because it leads to truly awesome dreams — in my case, a seemingly hours-long epic with something for the whole family.

It begins on an old country road, which I recognized as Richfield Rd., where my grandparents lived when I was a kid. Driving along, I crossed a rickety old bridge over a river that might also have been a ditch. Something seemed to be “up,” and I would have to return that night to figure out exactly what it was.

Cut to class — business class, that is, where I am stuck doing a group project where we have to design a menu for a luxurious meal. I have a lot of questions about this project, most notably: Why wasn’t there some kind of food service/cooking prerequisite? I have no idea what I’m doing. I skip out on the group meeting that evening to go check things out on Richfield Rd., where my grandma — who for this section of the dream has turned evil — spots me and starts chasing me down. I manage to get across the rickety old bridge — barely.

I narrowly escape and return to class the next morning to find that my classmates have covered for me. Everyone’s meals are heavy on greens and mushrooms; many of the entrees are shaped like Africa. I skip out in the middle of a group presentation and find that my school is actually in the middle of the Burger King factory — meaning the factory where all Burger King products are made. The centerpiece of this factory is a veritable river of boiling oil, an open-air deep-fryer. The scene cuts to two of the workers, with ample Fu Manchu-style mustaches. They are making something out of pigs (i.e., whole, live pigs) and accidentally drop one into the deep-fry river. Seemingly unaware of what is happening to it, the pig gradually disintegrates.

I walk further and find a kind of food court, not serving the standard Burger King fare but rather showing off all the many possibilities inherent in the foodstuffs themselves. I walk up to one of the counters to order and she asks me if I want a rocket sandwich or a reuben. Although I repeatedly say I want the reuben, she still asks several times (note: in real life, I lost my voice on Friday and was on shaky ground most of the weekend). When it comes time to pay, I enter into a new phase of the dream, where it’s not clear whether I’m wearing clothes or not.

Having had enough of the food court, I decide to wait for the train out of the factory, which is like a subway train. When the train comes, I’m not sure how to handle the quantum state of my clothing and keep looking from car to car — what I’m looking for, I don’t know. I get to the front car, not having found whatever it was, and I just have to get on if I want to leave. On the train are my grandparents, and my grandma is not evil at this point; neither seems to notice me. Also on the train is The Girlfriend, who has a blanket. I sit next to her, under the blanket: clothing problem solved for now.

That’s when I woke up.


April 12, 2010 - Posted by | dreams


  1. This makes me hungry.

    Comment by Daniel Lindquist | April 12, 2010

  2. You crazy bastard.

    Comment by Hill | April 13, 2010

  3. Two nights ago I had two dreams that were both extremely troubling and oddly reassuring. In one someone was trying to blow up a radioactive bomb near my house; in the other I was trying to get through Israeli security. The thing that was reassuring, later, was that in both dreams my friends and I made plans to get through the terrible dilemma- not particularly good plans, and not plans that would’ve worked in real life (radioactive bomb? everybody hide in the basement!), but still, there was something reassuring about the tone of it all.

    Notably, these dreams were fueled by the classic combo: outrageous junk food and dungeons and dragons.

    Go team.

    Comment by David Weasley | April 15, 2010

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