I dream that my penpal C. is visiting, we go to the local supermarket together and I promise I’ll buy her and her sister twin chocolate eggs (she doesn’t have a sister IRL). I say we should go to Venice next, she’s a bit worried because the sky is dark and stormy. How far away is it anyway, she asks. I say don’t worry, I’ll rent a carriage. A man shows up with a two horse carriage and takes us to Venice in less than ten minutes. C. is fascinated and walks around aimlessly, she takes a purple lily from a stand, the florist looks at me pointedly and I take out my wallet. I don’t have any money in it, just paper scraps.
Tag: chocolate
It Has Been Warm Here Lately
I dream that I’m at the ice cream parlor, there are so many flavors and I can’t decide. I start with mint, the ice cream man says mint is a complicated flavor, do I know what to pair it with?
Chocolate chip? I suggest. No, he said very seriously, you need something with chemical balance. I end up letting him decide, “as long as it’s crunchy”.
The moment I get my cup I drop it to the ground. Now it’s covered in hair and I try to clean it with tweezers, I waste a lot of time and everyone’s annoyed at me.
Round and Brown
I remember a collection of chocolate pralines, each with unique flavors like chewing gum, very American. They belong to my brother, but I’m also a little orphan and I’m trying to steal them with the other children at the orphanage, hoping the nuns won’t catch us.
Then I dream that we have guests over for dinner, the aunt and uncle I hate, and the next morning there is poop all over mine and my sister’s floors.
An Unlucky Trip
There’s a young woman walking on a frozen river. She is holding a wrapped box, inside there is a chocolate heart. A group of guys have ruined the heart, walked over it and left a big footprint. Now they’re sitting in their car, which is also on the frozen river, and mocking her.
The woman smiles at them, open the box and eats a piece of the chocolate heart with the footprint on it. She offers them a bite too, and there’s an evil glint in her eyes. They look scared now.
A customer at the store has refused to pay me 15 bucks. I go to her house, sit in her living room, drink a tea with her and explain that she’s stealing those money from my paycheck. She’s very sorry about it, she doesn’t have any money but offers me a tube of toothpaste and a big honey jar instead. Later that night, my boss sees the honey on her desk and is very impressed: it’s apparently super expensive.
I’m at home but it’s not my IRL home, the tiles in the bathroom are dark and the toilet is bright yellow, with a big splash of water coming from the side and landing gracefully inside the hole.
I leave for work, drive for a bit but then remember I don’t have a license and switch to a bicycle. Once arrived, my cousin invites me to come along for a trip with her friends. I accept, but not very enthusiastically.
We visit a city in Tuscany where it’s pouring rain, I have a big umbrella with me but it’s broken. We go to the train station in the evening, but we’ve already ran out of money and all the trains have been cancelled. We have to wait for someone to collect us, and eventually end up in front of a police captain: she’s sitting behind her desk sipping a glass of red wine, has Jessica Fletcher hair and a really rude attitude.
One of the girls in the group asks me if I slept at all, because we (platonically) shared a bed and she says I elbowed her all night. I say I definitely slept, and to prove it I tell her what I dreamed about:
Rebel Wilson gave me some toothpaste and a jar of honey.
I decide to go back home, because I don’t want to miss any more work. And just like that I’m sitting on my parents’ living room floor; they haven’t noticed me yet.
My uncle D. rings the doorbell, I open the door and see him in the hallway, standing next to a short man with glasses. He’s our trip organizer, I’m furious with him because we finished all the money on our first day! He promises his math was sound, takes out a beautiful artbook and start scribbling numbers on the illustrated pages with two brush pens, one black and one white, but he’s pressing too hard and ruining the nips. I get even angrier because he’s spending money on expensive stationary without even knowing how to use it.
My alarm rings as I’m still yelling at him.
DECADE DREAM JOURNAL 