In the last two days, I’ve dreamt about:
- A buffet of cakes and chocolate “samples,” seemingly awaiting consumption; my present-day friend Becca, a girl named Taylor who I haven’t thought about in decades, and a current neighbor/former coworker Kat and I walked into the place expecting to buy a chocolate cake and peanut butter pie for an office of about 78 people. The dream tasted delectable, with strawberries and cream flavored chocolate bites and thin custard-filled yellow vanilla cake slices up for grabs. We all binged on what we assumed were free samples in this abandoned high-class bakery we were sent to. The chocolate cake we were commissioned to purchase for the office party was the same cake I’d missed out on eating at a real-life Indians game back when I was a preteen. I had another chance at this cake in dreamland. Sparing a lot of the sweets-feast details, since they’re repetitive, I’ll jump ahead with this: I never got my redemption cake. I also knew that one cake and one pie wouldn’t be enough for the office party, but my pleas to up the ante were ignored. I wound up with a sweet donut and a sour attitude.
- This one I remember less about, but apparently it’s very similar to a Dr. Who episode. I have never seen Dr. Who. In this dream, I was again with a small group. I did not know these people this time, which was for the best since we were being hunted. Eventually the hunt ended when I saw a wet-cement looking live statue of an archangel sneak up on my group mate, place its hands on their shoulders, and turn them to stone when they didn’t react fast enough. I woke up shortly after that, but I also remember there being a speedboat and a long dock and the weather was a cool, misty gray.
- I think I was at a convention in this one. It wasn’t in a convention center, though; it was in someone’s house. My trusty crew this time consisted of Stacey, a former friend/coworker; Scott, a repeat contender in my recent dreams who went to elementary school with me and hasn’t been in my waking consciousness for eons; and two others that I can’t pull details from right now. This house had a windy staircase that was lined with old, dusty, leather-bound books that should’ve instead been compassionately released to a library. The bottom of the stairs led to an eclectic room where all the important convention discussions took place. One such discussion was Stacey and I talking to Scott about why he was so bummed out and trying to give him life advice. The rest of the dream was our group walking merrily (except for Scott) around this convention house, which resembled a combination of CoSi science center and Big Fun toy store with its endless knickknacks and rooms to explore. We eventually ended up in a parking lot. Just like in present reality, the parking lot is where we all parted ways, but not without giving Scott more earnest life advice. I hope he’s doing well these days.
The Word 