Dreams

A small fawn was running around the house. I read something that said Mimi Smartypants had trained her fawn to rub against the furniture by wrapping vintage neckties around her hand and rubbing the fawn’s jawline. For some reason, this was desirable dwarf-fawn behavior.

I’m caught in some large castle-house and I have to escape. It’s sort of like a reality show — I don’t know the rules except that I have to get out of the labyrinthine structure. At the beginning, I’m in a sort of anteroom that holds a pool of “Lethe water,” from which my minions — and these look like a cross between Gollem and a small, blue bug-eyed monster from the ’50s — are pretending to drink as a way to fake out my captors. “Ha ha!” I cried, “We’re not even remotely sleepy!” Then I dashed out through hallways and various rooms in the house.

At some chain restaurant that’s like a smooshed-together Red Lobster/Chili’s/Applebee’s, I’m trying to decide what to order from the menu, which is as large and complex as a roadmap and has many, many choices and cutesy text/cartoons. My family has already ordered, and before I’ve had a chance to do the same, the waiter brings us our plates. Each one is divided into 5 segments, and each segment contains a different entree or side dish. My plate has ribs, French fries, tacos sitting on coleslaw, and a veggie burger, and some Long John Silver-looking fried fish planks. I’m not sure if I should send it back, since I didn’t order those items and I happen to think that coleslaw is only slightly less revolting than egg salad. I pick at the veggie burger, fries, and the cheese on my taco, worried that I’ll be charged for every segment of the plate that I eat from — and that what I don’t eat will be thrown away, which seems a terrible waste.

It’s almost time to hit the road. D. is buying fixin’s for to make homemade pizzas. I think he will want pineapple and green olives on his. I love him anyway.