Thursday, August 25
Weirdest dream **EVER**
I had the munchies last night, but there wasn't a blessed thing in the house, so, since the real goal was something that when "crunch", I opted for a handful plain cheerios on a plate. I figured at the very least, they made the right sound and wouldn't totally screw my meager attempts at 'dieting' ('diet' is totally a four letter word in this house, but with heart problems running in the family, I do try to be conscientious of what I eat).
So... this morning I had what I am considering the weirdest dream of my life. And that, my friends, is saying something. Sadly, it won't ever be turned into a story...unless John Cleese, Terry Gilliam and their friends want to give it a go--I could never afford the licensing!
I was waiting tables--or at least in training--at Pizza Hut. I really did work at Pizza hut when I was 19; I lasted about 3 months. It is far and away the *worst* waitressing job I ever had. The problem was my management team, not the company itself, or the food or even the customers. I don't think I've ever had a dream about working their since I left (I periodically dream about waiting tables; usually I'm back at the Italian Den, the Coney, or maybe Webers--or some weird amalgamation there-of.) The dream's version of Pizza Hut wasn't exactly like the real thing, not unless they've added "popcorn pizza" to the menu. It looked like seashell shaped bread (specifically trumpet snail shells), roughly two bites each, sprinkled with Italian spices. (I recognized the shapes as trumpet snail shaped because I have trumpet snails in my fish tank... but the "shells" really were just pieces of bread, somehow shaped into shells, though for what earthly reason, I can't begin to guess).
But it gets better.
It was about the end of my training shift, when in walks the owner of the company with a bunch of his friends--maybe six or eight "people" in all (notice those quotation marks?) The owner is Darth Vader, and his companions are three of four aliens of the same race as Yoda, and a couple of Storm Troopers, except in black, and high ranking. They're a bunch of head people from the company, in town for some sort of meeting (with the Yoda people--sorry, Star Wars fans, I honestly don't know what planet Yoda comes from).
They sat in my section (after some-rearranging of tables so they could all fit; because I was new, all I had were deuces, tables that only seat two people) and everybody was terrified of them, and scared for my sake, because I had to wait on them. In typical "me" fashion, I ignored how big and powerful the head honcho was, went over, smiled and asked for his order. Popcorn pizza to start, and he'd let me know the rest of it when that came. He was direct, but not scary.
When I delivered the popcorn pizza (from the really strange kitchen set up), Darth asked for a large "house special" pizza--which I took to mean a Pizza Supreme and put in the order (on a totally screwed up system that made the system we lovingly called Hal, when I worked at the Coney, seem easy and uncomplicated). The chef was pissed (at me, of course) because he'd already started an Italian pizza.... I guess that's what Darth usually ordered? (Hey, I said it was a strange dream. Except that it's not that unusual for the chef to vent his ire on the waitstaff, and vice versa.)
By the end of the dream my customer, Darth Vader, owner of Pizza Hut, was flirting with me (in a totally appropriate, he isn't going to get smacked with a law suit sort of way--it was totally non-creepy, too, just the sort of flirting customers sometimes do).
Now, I've been having some weird dreams lately, but this one definitely takes the cake.
On that note, I'm off to rinse the goop out of my hair (did a cinnamon/honey hair wrap last night, I think the amla in my shampoo is making my hair a touch dark... I was SO unhappy when someone called me a brunette the other week) and get some writing done... just not about Darth Vader or popcorn pizza....