Last night, I dreamed I was in Whole Foods getting items for tonight’s supper. I knew I wanted to make spaghetti for supper, so, in my dream, it’s Saturday afternoon, and Cinlach and I are in Whole Foods shopping because it’s full of wonderful organic goodies that make me spend a bunch of money I don’t have.
I start off in the dairy section (which, by the way, the store in my dream is NOTHING like the Whole Foods in Greenville) because, for some reason, I’ve gotten homemade organic butter there before. (In real life, I haven’t.) But I couldn’t find any butter, so I decide to use the butter I have at home to make garlic butter for the bread.
Then I walk over and see this display of all these loose herbs, and I pour a little olive oil in a shallow pan on a table and mix some herbs in the oil, thinking I could take this mixture home and use it for the bread. So, as I’m creating this bread dipping oil, other customers start stopping and watching what I’m doing.
Pretty soon, a store employee comes up and starts talking to me and compliments me on what I’m doing. I begin thinking that maybe I could get a job here doing cooking demos, so I ask about it. And of course, the answer is no, so I decide to continue shopping.
As I walk by the bakery, I see these individual pound cakes, and I think “These would be cool for strawberry shortcakes for dessert.” But there weren’t any plain pound cakes, just ones with all sorts of assorted frostings. Eventually, I ask one of the bakers if there are any plain ones behind the counter. She tells me that some are in the oven and will be ready at 3:20. Yes, 3:20 exactly. And I figure that that will give me enough time to do the rest of my shopping, come back and pick up the cakes, and get home before my brother is supposed to be there at 4:00.
I move on to look for a package of frozen strawberries, and that search has me going all over the store. I find a loaf of French bread as long as my dining room table, which in real life, wouldn’t be that unrealistic for Whole Foods considering they sell a round disc of pepper jack cheese that’s at least a foot and a half in diameter.
But back to the dream, where my search for frozen strawberries has also led me to a store manager, who offers me a job — not as a food demo associate, but a part-time evening position at the customer service desk. I think to myself, “What the hell, no one else has even called for an interview yet.” And I take the job.
Meanwhile, I STILL can’t find the frakkin’ strawberries. I’m feeling like Starbuck on Battlestar Galactica. (“WE’RE GOING THE WRONG WAY!!!!!”) I’m waiting to become possessed and start painting store layouts on the floor. Or perhaps I should enlist the help of Indiana Jones because those frozen strawberries are becoming as valuable as some freakin’ crystal skulls.
Eventually, I find a produce area, and I see an employee drizzling a strawberry purée on some sort of whipped cream-looking concoction. I tell her that I need some of that purée, and she happily packages some up for me. I go pick up my mini pound cakes, but I look at the clock and it’s 4:00. So, I make a mad dash for the registers… and I wake up.
Tonight, my brother did come over. I did make spaghetti, but I went to Publix instead of Whole Foods for the ingredients. And I didn’t make strawberry shortcakes for dessert. I opened a container of Ben & Jerry’s Strawberry Cheesecake ice cream.
So WTF is up with strawberries in a dream? Is there some sort of symbolism I should know about? Do I even wanna know?
I do know that I gotta find a freakin’ job, because if I have to take a part-time job at the customer service desk at Whole Foods? I’m gonna have a nervous breakdown.