I had a dream

I enjoy my dreams, I enjoy the unexpected, I enjoy being able to fly, I like that sensation of steering the craziness, I love the visuals. Saucy and I used to tell our nighttime dream adventures daily, our work room neighbours, V and L, did the same.

Our dreams never had a socially useful or poetic message like MLK. Ours were substantially more inconsequential but endlessly amusing to us.

One day I arrived at work during a conversation that was already underway about the handsome brothers who worked in the local fruit and veg shop. All women in the area knew of them. These men cropped up in conversation surprisingly often and resulted in what I called, The Vegetable Man Theory. This theory recognises how the tone of a day can be elevated by a non, or mildly flirtatious, necessary, friendly interaction with a handsome man. Waiters, baristas and market stall holders can also serve the purpose of a vegetable man, any usually handsome chap with whom you can have a regular conversation that makes the day seem brighter.

There will be equivalences for all genders.

Anyhow, the conversation about the vegetable men on the morning in question started off in a relatively standard manner. V had gone into their store to buy a melon, one of the round pale greenish ones with orange flesh. People were coming to dinner and a cantaloup was deemed essential. You have to make an effort when entertaining V said. Everyone loves a melon and they add a level of sophistication to a sociable meal at home. Don’t you think?

Well, yes, I guess so.

This sort of housewife variety conversation was unusual for V. Things got weirder when one of the brothers selected a melon from a very high top shelf, announced that it was perfect and started bouncing it around the shop like he was a Harlem Globetrotter.

Really?

Well no, it turned out it was a dream, I missed that info at the start of the conversation.

Last week I had a dream that challenges the melon episode for top place in the most boring dream category. I dreamt that the step ladder we keep in our enormous studio cupboard had gone missing. That is the entire dream, my step ladder is missing, I didn’t even try to find it, just noticed it was missing. Even though the loss of the stepladder would be inconvenient, I hoped that it was in fact what had happened, The alternative being that the creative quality, the story lines and production values of my dreams have all taken a severe down turn.

I remember fondly the days when I’d dream that I was a house, a tv on a tank or a person on an adventurous quest.

I looked up the meaning of stepladders in dreams hoping something exciting might be buried in this dull ass vision. I look up dream elements every now and then and the results are rarely plausible or enlightening.

This time though I’m well impressed.

Stepladders in a dream are supposedly negative objects suggesting dissatisfaction and the feeling of being taken advantage of. OMG! That’s me and my soon to be ex job!

So here’s to leaving actual employments that piss you off so that you can lose a stepladder in your dreams.

I used to tell Cornflake about my dreams, what do you think that could mean? I’d ask.

That means, he’d say, that you were asleep.

It’s hard to argue with that.