a long crazy hash & mash of a dream

General Tao's tofu, water, bowl of cereal later

the never ending dream thread

I'm at the restaurant. The new menu has taken effect and it'e been on for a month, but I feel as if I've slipped througha little gouge in time, and now here I am and I don't know what these foods are, how to present them. The food window is a large, clumsily built wooden table, kind of low, about 6 feet by 4 feet, hastily painted plywood. Unfinished. I'm looking at the ticket, and it says things like "NEW DONE OLD" and "HASH AND MASH." Whaaa? I have two different places of potatoes, one of _huge_ roasted potatoes, cut in half and left giant, and a place ot small potatoes (probably the "new done old"). And then there's maybe a dish of mashed, and there's a chocolate cake, still in a blue pyrex long cake pan or casserole, turned over. And other things, too. I bite the bullet and call Jess over, and simply tell her that I don't know what these dishes are, or what to do with them. I've already wasted all manner of time just trying to find a towel or pot holder to pick them up, because the dishes are hot as hell. She tells me that they aren't plated correctly, anyhow, and the kitchen is going to have to take them back and replate, so I can chill for a moment. I want to hurry, but Jess points out that we're on a plane, anyhow, and there's time.

I start to deal with the cake, I lift the blue pyrex away, and it comes away cleanly. On the interior surface of the pyrex there had been a political flyer of some sort about the Right doing this or that, but when I lift it away, it's gone, and I realize that it was that new spray-on technique that disappears on the food when it's disturbed. I'm glad it's gone, because I thought it was inappropriate. Now to ice the cake. I have to layer the pink oatmeal icing with paper bits and stickers, mostly pictures of Jack from Will & Grace. He appears, and I try to keep him occupied so that he doesn't see that the cake is all about him.

There is a dream intermission here where I'm back with the potato dishes, but there's something strangely sexual going on. I'm dipping them in melted butter and dropping them into a giant, hollowed out potato. Somehow, this is maturbatory to me. I repeat the process. I'm frustrated.

We're on vacation, renting a hotel room with several people. Crazy adventures ensue. And are we in some futuristic city (one I've dreamed of before), or are we just up around Juan Tabo and Menaul? Or both? I don't remember the adventures around the city, but we get back tired and over-sleep. When Josh and I do wake up, we're late for checking out, and don't forget that we're selling the house today (maybe to Kelvin?). We HAVE to get going. The card machine is right there in the room, and I go ahead & pay. Though we're unsure if they'll charge us for an entire other day. It's almost 1pm, after all. I get the slip and sign it. The woman from the desk comes up and tells us that we _were_ charged an extra day, the cut-off was 10am. I'm pissed. But who has time?

We get to the new house, it's somewhat unfinished, but much larger and it's going to be fantastic. We're very excited. (It also greatly resembles the hotel room we had rented, which is confusing.) It has three bedrooms, strange angles, extra rooms we didn't know existed and probably more to find. But we need to go sign over the old house. And the car won't start. But we have a green VW bus that we can take, and indeed Chris is around, I think he dropped off the bus for us-- thanks Chris! But oh crap, we drove away without him and he has to walk all day to get back. Why'd we do that? And how will we get he car back? We're with Jess again, in the office downstairs. She gives me the good news that my mom is going to meet with Kelvin to hand over the house, so we can attend to other things. Thank God.

I end up back in the strange future city, now running though a huge department store. I get to the escalator, and it's actually a moving sidewalk, just at an angle. Instead of a long strip of black rubber like at the airport, it's an ivory-colored set of hard strips, a rolling track. It looks like it's going fast, and indeed I step on it and it whisks me away at an insane speed, and then about 20 feet from the second floor (the thing is long-- like a subway escalator), it suddenly decelerates, I almost go on my face, but hang on and am deposited safely. I'm in housewares now. There's a nice (too nice?) family up there looking at stuff. The parents are really friendly to me, want to chat, discuss, take me under their wing for some reason. I extricate myself graciously. I have my three little trinkets (no idea what they are-- they all fit in one hand). But before I go I find myself on the floor of a little room-turned-theater, watching a movie with other customers. The light is very peach. The talkative mom is right there in front of me. I realize that she's smelling my tennis shoe, which makes me really uncomfortable. Mom with a stinky tenny fetish? I try to shift my feet away from her.