Adventures in Gastronomy

I had the most peculiar dream last night. Actually, the most peculiar dream I’ve ever had was a rather erotic one involving, of all people, Sigourney Weaver. That was back in the 1990’s.  Matt, my partner at the time, said mocked me for picking the most masculine female imaginable for an erotic dream (whereas most people at that time would have picked Cindy Crawford or something).

But last night’s dream was pleasantly peculiar in a more wholesome way. Randy received a work assignment in some eastern-European city. I want so say Prague, but that could be because we’ve been there before. The language and words seemed like Prague, but the subway system was that of Buenos Aires, and the architecture and sunshine more resembled southern California. Culturally, it also felt more like the melting pot of the United States versus the anglo-feel of most European cities.

Anyway, we apparently purchased an enormous home at an interesection with a subway stop right there. And when I say enormous, I mean enormous. The rooms were incredibly spacious with high ceilings, multiple levels and slanting roofs (I guess part of that southern California 60’s-70’s modern architecture).

However, we noticed that our neighbors were putting their home out for rent so we decided to pop on over and look the place over. Upon entering, we realized that this place was even larger and more spectacular than where we were living. So even though we just went over to be nosy, Randy fell in love with the place and decided we should rent out our place and move into the new place instead. Unfortunately, it was going to cost us more money.

After leaving the place, I told Randy that I liked the place, too, but we couldn’t afford to live there since I wasn’t working in that country (I didn’t have a visa). He offered that I should go back to school (and he’d pay for it). Conveniently, there was an English university at the next subway stop, called (and why I remember this name is beyond me since I can’t remember the name of the city) the Baryvalencia English School of Business. Now, Baryvalencia doesn’t sound the least bit eastern-European to me now, but it did in my dream, I swear.

So, I enrolled, got accepted, and became a student. The rest of the dream was a blur as I’m assuming it was when I was waking up. But I recall the neighbor’s wife (our landlord) poisoning some wine that she intended for us to drink.

Strange. I wonder what exciting place I’ll go tonight in my dreams?

February 5th, 2010
Categories: Uncategorized . Author: snarl

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