Most of the time I know when I am dreaming because in the dream I think to myself “I would never choose this.” I realize that the situation or circumstances would not ever happen in reality because have already decided to do or not to do something. Your life is a choice, your dreams are not.
Happy extra calendar day people.
It’s a leap day, so that means a freebie day that occurs once every 4 years. What are you going to do with the extra credit day?
Last night I dreamt that I could travel in time, to another planetary system in another dimension. I mean the travel wasn’t easy, just because it was fictionalized, getting away from point A to a make-believe point B involved a complex computer program, a controller to set the direction, map the course, arrange the code, and a tablet sized computer that served as the travel app. As the passenger and the director of destination, I had to request the coordinates to a 3rd party person who plotted the orientation of the desired time and place.
You couldn’t travel through time like go back in the past and change history, instead you could travel to a parallel dimension, a new temporal and physical location where a foreign reality was taking place. It’s not like you program the time machine to travel back to 1952 on a Thursday at 10:30 am, creating a situation where you can change the present future. In this nocturnal and delusional system you enter a separate worm hole and you never know what is going to be existing in the randomized yet specified dimensional time field imputed with the travel request.
Today is the closest access we have to an imaginary realm, day that shouldn’t exist, one that is an organized freak occurrence every 1461 days.
Hope you made the most out of your brush with a transcendental comprehension of a multi-dimensional temporal voodoo.
“To sleep, perchance to dream- Ay, there’s the rub,
For in this sleep of death what dreams may come.” – Bill Shakespeare
I love sleeping because my dreaming life tends to be better then my waking life. My dreams are so imaginative, full of adventure, abound with mystery, whimsical, and interesting. Literally anything can happen, that is usually what does happen, anything. If I could remember my dreams more clearly and precisely, I could quit cooking and become a famous screenwriter.
The problem is, my dreams leave more of a feeling rather than a series of events. This eerie feeling can penetrate my entire day, leaving me with a strange sense of something being off, slightly skewed, not balanced. The feeling from the land of dreams crosses over into my real life, impacting me subtly.
Together these elements of action, strong story arc, and a lasting impression are the components to making a story spectacular, but like I said, the details drift away as soon as I come into consciousness. The more awake I become, the farther away the dream travels. If only I could write in a state of semi consciousness. But using you brain and thinking concretely draws you out of that imaginary playground, that space where the mind wanders uncontrolled and unabatedly.
I am not fascinated with the overall meaning of these strange and fairy tale like adventures, that is an entirely different cup of tea, one which does not fall under the realm of Marigold’s specialty. Dreams occur during REM sleep, a time when the brain is as active as it is while being awake. Is this why I wake up so tired every morning? Because my brain refuses to sleep like the rest of my body? You know how you are supposed to sleep on a decision? Well I wake up more confused, with too many ideas, too many solutions to a singular problem.
I complain about the negatives of kitchen life and the hardship that go along with this career path. I don’t need to sum up all the drawbacks and inherent wrongness of this job line, so I will consolidated all my complaining into a list for those who may still be in the dark: it generally sucks all around, it’s hard and nobody ever says good job, no vacation time, no sick days (unless you are in the hospital, and deep cuts do not always counts, depends on if it’s a holiday in which case the answer is always no), fire, very sharp knives, very hot things that want to burn you, heavy things, competitive environment, egotism, low pay sometimes even no pay, no respect, sometimes you get yelled at like you are a child misbehaving, incompetent coworkers who get paid the same, small working environment, no privacy, constant harassment, you have to fight for the tools you need, you have to clean a lot, no sitting down, if you do get to eat that will be while standing.
So instead of further complaining, we are going to change the hands of power. People need to eat, that demand will never go away. Beyond job security, the stability is intrinsic. I can take a break, walk away, say fuck you hungry people I am going to be a writer! I will break your heart and you will hate me. But when I say, hey, I am back in town, want something to eat? You will not say no, you will not refuse my cool offer of a hot meal.
I want to travel everywhere on this great and green planet. This wish is very conflicting with working in a restaurant. But what if I could cook from home, making delicious and healthy meals, sell enough product so that I can give myself 2 months off a year? I could be private chef for any special occasion. I will be your very own caterer. I will bring my own pots and knives, and I will be polite and cook and serve. I will wash the dishes and you will pay me a good amount of money because it will be very nice. Think about wearing whatever you want while you eat a fancy meal, instead of those stuffy clothes.
Sounds crazy, but you don’t know how good I am at being poor. I have been refining my skill for decades now. Food for motivation, your reality is what you make it.
The cicadas are singing although the summer’s sizzle remains silent.
The wind’s whistle has wound down to whispers of forgotten wonders.
The clamorous children have chilled down to cool calm, keeping clandestine clues of their company.
The people parade past peacefully, particularly predisposed to participating in practical partying.
Sleep should be sound, but my psyche is still spinning swiftly, severely sidetracked from the summertime slumber.
My heart is in my stomach, and my stomach is in my mind. My mind is where the heart should be. Can you help me doc? I don’t have any money (I have heard of it, never seen it though). But I will pay you in mini cakes, any flavor you want. They will be superb, for certain, I will just follow my stomach.