Over and over it’s the same kitchen dream. I don’t want to go in to work.
The reasons are many:
I don’t like it there.
The job is too hard.
The pay is lousy.
The pressure enormous.
There are no utensils. No spatulas spoons ladles or tongs.
The walk-in doors are many, dimly lit, and its cold in there.
Often, in my kitchen dream I am naked. As naked as the Pillsbury Doughboy. All I am wearing is a cloth chef’s hat and a neckerchief. No one seems to notice, but it’s a very uncomfortable feeling, talking to waitresses and frying bacon, bare-beamed and butt naked.
Last, but not least, are two really good reasons:
One- I’m already 4 hours late.
Two- I’ve been no call no show for several days and they’ve probably fired me by now.
Then there is the sinking feeling where we realize since we have been no call-no show for the last week, we probably won’t be getting a check for some time.
Still,we don’t want to go in.
Its really that bad.
Just as the anxiety level reaches its peak, we begin to sense there is no cause for worry.
Its just a dream. We don’t work in a kitchen anymore. We work in an office. Its well lit, warm in the winter, cool in the summer and never smells like shrimp. The pay is good, the job is easy.
In fact, now that we know its just a dream we are in the clear. We can dream whatever we want!
Besides, we recall now the dream where we asked the waitress if she liked our chefs hat, thinking it would be a good opportunity for her to point out that yes, the chefs hat was fine, but she wished we would put our pants back on. But she did not, so we deduce that she must not notice we are naked.
And its just a dream anyway, right?
Like this:
I come in in the morning, 3 hours late, take off my pants and hang them on the back of my chair. i sit and tap-tap-tap at my computer. In the next room is the Employee Cafeteria and if anyone wants something to eat, I will put my clothes back on, wash my hands, and fix it for them.
But that is optional. I do not have to cook if I do not want to.
Then I will strip back down and start to work at the Computer again. Something doesn’t seem right about working in my drawers but it is quite comfortable, just as it is right now, and I’m not one to complain about everything.
It is a busy day. In fact, Corporate HDQ people are coming through the door. We don't get to see them very often, so this is a real treat.
I stand and greet each one with a warm handshake as they admire my physique. What a fun dream! The women are especially friendly today; I have been taking vitamins and my hair is fuller, or else my head has grown smaller.
Grown smaller? Is that a thing?
The CEO of the company enters, I introduce myself and he asks if I might fix him some breakfast.
’What would you like this morning?’ I inquire.
‘Biscuits” he says.
‘Biscuits it is” I snap back, trying to hide my disappointment.
You see, in the kitchen there, we have everything. And we have a HUGE Freezer where the Biscuits are kept. It is so huge a river runs through it. But I can NEVER, I mean NEVER, find the damn biscuits. It doesn’t matter how long I look.
I get my clothes on and go into the freezer, knowing I am more likely to find Admiral Byrd or Daniel Webster in there than I am to find a single Biscuit. I enter like I’m stepping into a time machine.
Its very cold, and even with my clothes on my balls start to draw up.
Shelves reach a mile high, filled with boxes.
I cannot see the back wall, and the side walls run to the horizon.
Surely this freezer was built by MC Escher.
But just on the other side of The River That Runs Through It I find a box that says “Pillsbury”.
Hallelujah!
I grab it and clutch it to my breast! See? That wasn't so bad.
I make my way back across the Frozen Tundra, past Saint Alphonsos Pancake Breakfast, cheese blintzes, 16/20 Shrimp, and just as I reach the door leading me back to the kitchen and the CEO or whatever the hell this guy is, I look inside the box.
Damn….its Pillsbury Dinner Rolls!
Thats how fast a dream can turn on you.
Still,we don’t want to go in.
Its really that bad.
Just as the anxiety level reaches its peak, we begin to sense there is no cause for worry.
Its just a dream. We don’t work in a kitchen anymore. We work in an office. Its well lit, warm in the winter, cool in the summer and never smells like shrimp. The pay is good, the job is easy.
In fact, now that we know its just a dream we are in the clear. We can dream whatever we want!
Besides, we recall now the dream where we asked the waitress if she liked our chefs hat, thinking it would be a good opportunity for her to point out that yes, the chefs hat was fine, but she wished we would put our pants back on. But she did not, so we deduce that she must not notice we are naked.
And its just a dream anyway, right?
Like this:
I come in in the morning, 3 hours late, take off my pants and hang them on the back of my chair. i sit and tap-tap-tap at my computer. In the next room is the Employee Cafeteria and if anyone wants something to eat, I will put my clothes back on, wash my hands, and fix it for them.
But that is optional. I do not have to cook if I do not want to.
Then I will strip back down and start to work at the Computer again. Something doesn’t seem right about working in my drawers but it is quite comfortable, just as it is right now, and I’m not one to complain about everything.
It is a busy day. In fact, Corporate HDQ people are coming through the door. We don't get to see them very often, so this is a real treat.
I stand and greet each one with a warm handshake as they admire my physique. What a fun dream! The women are especially friendly today; I have been taking vitamins and my hair is fuller, or else my head has grown smaller.
Grown smaller? Is that a thing?
The CEO of the company enters, I introduce myself and he asks if I might fix him some breakfast.
’What would you like this morning?’ I inquire.
‘Biscuits” he says.
‘Biscuits it is” I snap back, trying to hide my disappointment.
You see, in the kitchen there, we have everything. And we have a HUGE Freezer where the Biscuits are kept. It is so huge a river runs through it. But I can NEVER, I mean NEVER, find the damn biscuits. It doesn’t matter how long I look.
I get my clothes on and go into the freezer, knowing I am more likely to find Admiral Byrd or Daniel Webster in there than I am to find a single Biscuit. I enter like I’m stepping into a time machine.
Its very cold, and even with my clothes on my balls start to draw up.
Shelves reach a mile high, filled with boxes.
I cannot see the back wall, and the side walls run to the horizon.
Surely this freezer was built by MC Escher.
But just on the other side of The River That Runs Through It I find a box that says “Pillsbury”.
Hallelujah!
I grab it and clutch it to my breast! See? That wasn't so bad.
I make my way back across the Frozen Tundra, past Saint Alphonsos Pancake Breakfast, cheese blintzes, 16/20 Shrimp, and just as I reach the door leading me back to the kitchen and the CEO or whatever the hell this guy is, I look inside the box.
Damn….its Pillsbury Dinner Rolls!
Thats how fast a dream can turn on you.
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