Friday, April 24, 2020

Isolation Dreams

Photo by: Read 01
I'm having weird stress dreams. It started with a waitressing dream, which is a common one for me. I waitressed for six years, and it was over twenty five years ago, but when my subconscious wants to screw with me, that's where we go.

It started the same as usual. I'm working alone in a large restaurant when the place fills up with customers. (It happened to me once in real life, but to this day, it's a blur.)  But unlike most waitressing dreams, I keep my head. I formulate a plan, and go about my tasks methodically, with some success.

That is, until customers start to get nasty and strange. One woman stops me so she can berate my appearance. She tells me I look 'slovenly' and 'disgusting'. She then starts plucking Freya fur off my uniform and uses it to decorate her eyelashes and eyebrows. "See?" she snaps. "Like this. Take some pride in yourself for God's sakes."

Before I can reply, another customer directs my attention to a couple of disruptive addicts. They're high as kites and crawling around under the tables pretending they're babies. One of them is Bobcat Goldthwait. I'm told that he and his girlfriend met at a tractor pull. Um....Where are my bouncers? I realize I'm at Patty's in Red Deer, and it's the graveyard shift. We always have bouncers on graveyards. Where are the bouncers? I wake sweaty and relieved that I no longer waitress. ESPECIALLY on graveyards at Patty's.
Bobcat Goldthwait, Police Academy

Just the other day, I dreamed I was in a huge shop that sold EVERY flavor of ice cream in the world. It was wall to wall self serve dispensers, like soft serve. Cotton Candy? My favorite, but I want to be adventurous. Root Beer Float? Second favorite, but I crave something new. Squid ink? Okay, maybe not that adventurous.

What I REALLY want is Salmon flavored. I search for it, but there's no rhyme or reason to the system. I'm walking through miles of aisles and it's starting to piss me off. I REALLY want Salmon ice cream, dammit! Oh shit...I'm lost. How do I get out of this shop? I wake up sweaty, and I think this dream represents my craving for sashimi. God, I love sashimi more than any food in the world. Like silk on my tongue...

The next night, I dream that I work there. Even in the dream, I'm wondering why the Hell am I working in an ice cream shop? I've had enough of Food Industry jobs! But in the dream, I shrug it off. In these uncertain times, I must need the extra pay. Besides, they want me to create a tomato sorbet, and that sounds like fun. Start with vine-ripened tomatoes, maybe add a few heirlooms, like Purple Cherokee...and some basil for extra sweetness. Would garlic still work? Is there such a thing as Garlic Ice Cream?

Then it occurs to me...Is that Fucking Tomato here somewhere? The one with the Bostonian accent? I'd like to grind that bastard into the sorbet--him and his ugly carrot buddy. Then again, what if he shows up while I'm throwing his peeled tomato friends into a blender? I panic and wake up.

My dreams appear to be getting weirder, and I wasn't sure that was possible. However, it did remind me that I don't think I ever told you about my anthology project.

I guess I didn't because it's largely on the backburner. Lately I've had more time to work on it, and I've also developed new material. I've often said many of my book ideas come from dreams. Thoeba was the first, but all of my books have some root in something I've literally dreamed up. I have stories, drabbles and other flash fiction that showcase ideas that don't fit into my angel and demon/ mythology/ reincarnation brand.

Here's what you can expect: I've been a treeplanter who meets an Elemental. I've been an senior center worker who gets kidnapped by fairies. I've been exterminated. I've screamed from mountaintops about being an independently published author. I've met a shadow person. (Every bit as terrifying as they say.) All this and more from my warped subconscious.

I have a story named 'A Town Called Grey'. I tried writing it when I was fifteen, and my mother loved what I'd started. Right now it's too long, but still vague. It might not make the cut, but I'll finish it for my mom. No, I don't think it should be a novel. It might make a good Outer Limits episode.

I'm still working on it, but I can tell you about it now because it's actually coming together. How soon? I don't know. I'm just going to keep writing. So wish me luck, and I hope you enjoyed a silly blog after the last two sad ones.

And for the record--I've dreamed of Spartacus once. Last time I saw him in dreams, he was hairless, and I kissed the Hell out of him. We really miss that sweet boy.

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