![Log In Log In](/branding/icons/new/encrypted.png)
Log In
This next dream made me wonder why serving food
wasn’t a more revered sport.
It took place at a nondescript
festival, the food was plentiful
and the sound of Muppet songs
filled the night sky, yes, Muppets.
I happened upon one stall,
however, and things took a weirder turn.
As I was awaiting my
order, a very uppity customer felt impatient;
let’s go with
impatient, as that’s the politer of the two adjectives.
She
decided to help herself, and of course, the lunch lady didn’t appreciate
this gesture.
It was then, her glare could have
turned you to stone, and she was so intense,
the Muppets must
have been swapped out for generic hard rock band number fifty.
She slammed a slab of, quote, “steak-steak-steak”, onto my plate
with wicked authority.
I was taken aback by the absurdity of
the whole thing, not even noticing the…um, steak
had an echo
to it, of course, I couldn’t hear it over the hard rock anthem.
I was then tuned into the awkwardness part of this scenario, then keenly
backed off,
and out of the dream itself.
Also, Barack Obama was there, but it seemed more like he
was photo-bombing
than actually contributing anything to my
dream, so, he barely deserves this mention.