October 27, 2005

Maybe I'm Just Hungry...

I have been crazy busy today. Since the minute I walked in the door, I have been taking care of things and checking them off my various lists. For those of you concerned about my Good Mood OD yesterday, I felt a lot better last night when my brother called and pissed me off. I am not fully karmically-balanced, but I’m a little less tense.

As usual, I ate candy before bed. As usual, my dreams were weird.

So, I’m at Alton Brown’s house. I’m sitting at his dining room table, thinking how nice it is to be at his house and wondering what we’re having for dinner, when he and his wife walk in the front door with groceries. AB sees me sitting and his posh (Victorian, for some reason; I’m sure AB is way more modern than that in real life) dining room table and, reasonably, asks me who in the hell I am. I tell him, and he asks why I am there, in his house, when he has no idea who I am.

“I really don’t know,” I answer, quite honestly. “I think I was invited,”
“By whom?” he asks.
I think a minute. “I can’t remember. But I’m sure I’m supposed to be here—I don’t just wander into people’s houses without being invited.”

This sounds silly now, but I actually did believe I had some sort of appointment for dinner at his house. He gets all mad, like you would do, with a strange person at your house, sitting at your table. I don’t want to make a fuss, so I get up to leave. Then I wander from room to room, looking for the door. I wander through about seven different rooms, all huge and beautifully decorated, one of which has a view of the ocean. I don’t see how, since I think AB lives in Georgia, he would have a view of the ocean. My brain must be projecting again; I subconsciously want a Victorian dining set and an ocean view. And a baby, which is thankfully not at all featured in this dream. Anyway, I somehow wind up in the cellar, which also manages to look amazing—he has a cider press in his basement. The whole place was brightly lit and smelled like cedar. About now, I run into his wife, who is nice in the dream-world, and I say, “Yes, I know, I’m trying to leave, but I can’t find the door. Your home is lovely, by the way.” She laughs and asks me to hang on a minute (like, where am I supposed to go in this house with no doors?) because Alton wants to speak with me. So I sit, and he shows up and tells me that yes, apparently there was some kind of mix-up, and he’s supposed to be cooking for me and my sister tonight. I then remember that it was my sister who invited me—she won a pass to have him cook for her and a friend; I guess she picked me. So then I put on my Crown of Indignation and give AB a bit of a hard time for thinking I was a petty thief who had plans to make off with his entire house (while making a mental note to do just that, because the place was awesome). He’s classy, so he apologizes, and offers to cook us whatever we want, and begs us to stay. I would like to mention that I have yet to see my sister in the house. I’m still upset about how he made me feel like a criminal, so I tell him I’m not hungry, but to ask my sister what she wants, and we’ll eat that.

Then I wake up. I think the major real-life elements contributing to this dream were thus: 1) My sister loves the Food Network.
2) She once won a pass to see Emeril Live, but couldn’t afford the airfare, so she didn’t go. She’s still pissed, so don’t ask her about it.
3) We both met Alton Brown when he was on his book tour. We both babbled when we got to the front of the line, but we got our books signed, and took a picture with him. I also had him sign my arm, because that’s how I am, and because geeky boys who speak science are cute. My sister was totally jealous.
4) I watched the gelatin episode of Good Eats last night.

I told my sister all about this dream as we’re waiting for the bus this morning. After twenty minutes of my rehashing the details, you wanna know what she said?

“I wonder what we ate.”

This is my family.

1 comment:

Meg said...

Yay, Alton Brown!! What a yummy dream to have... even though you didn't get to eat dinner.

beedoo, you really should set word verification. Then I wouldn't be lost amongst these houligan spammers.