Last Nights Dream

Haven't done this dream bit for a while here, the dream story time thing.
I imagine it provides you with some psycho-analyst fodder, from the other end of our little internet relationship, so why not...


Last night I had two dreams that were pretty food-centric, for whatever reason.

First one was dinner out, at what was supposed to be a classy joint but was really kinda a run down hole.
The place was old, like an old building that has parts that are just sort of abandoned, while the rest is still in use.
Have you been in that sorta space?  You know what I mean.  The room with seven year old newspapers laying in the corner kind of room...
Anyway, there were spaces like that, which I noticed.
There were also an endless string of people who kept coming to the table, to tell us the specials, but then would get distracted and never take our order.
They would notice I was low on water and go to get some, or whatever.
One of the specials was cedar plank salmon, by the way.
I don't remember the other two.
They never got around to taking the order.
Then the manager came by, a toe headed fuck of a guy, and apologized about how badly things were going.
He was going to make things right, he said.  He would be right back, to take our order, he told me.
But he never came back...


Then, off in another dream, it was me hosting like a cooking show infomercial thing.
I am not really sure on a lot of the details on this one.
There were cameras and I was talking about food.
I was cooking kielbasa, too.
(There's some Freudian shit for you to ponder on.)
So I get to the end of whatever I am doing and I slice up portions of the sausage to put on plates.
But the portions look way too small on the giant plates I have.
I grab the kielbasa portions and blow them up like party balloons.
And that was my genius cooking tip to close the show...


So, feel free to interpret these for me.