Dream: Prayers Not Labeled For Individual Sale
About a week ago:
I volunteered to help the church spread frisbees for God, since their plan to sell prayer potions fell through at the last minute. Peter (the pastor that officiated at our wedding) kept the group on task. We hauled everything in a large red truck for distribution. Charles (from work) helped toss the frisbees onto the buildings that had ordered them. We had to get the frisbees caught on the structure, usually on the corners of window sills. A high-class retirement home we visited posed the greatest challenge; we had to hook all the frisbees on the underside of a giant hexagonally-fractal balcony. It looked funny once we'd covered it in primary-colored spots.
Later, we visiting toy stores to deliver our product. The Mexican owner said it'd been a hard day. Peter looked at her, and said "Not today." (Meaning his pastoral care / chat will have to wait until tomorrow.) A kid played with some giant ball bearings in a cage of ramps. His parents asked whether they might escape. I demonstrated what would happen should a bearing shake free, and the parents seemed satisfied.
The quiet darkness of 4 PM on a Thursday settled across the mall as we left. Gray clouds sank lower, and only thirteen-year-old girls remained in the shopping areas.
xcorvis and Katie parked their car in a small lot. They agreed it was better to do it in reverse, then carefully backed one set of wheels over the concrete divider, probably for safety.
I waited as the train passed, edged forward as the kids on the other side dispersed, then pulled through the intersection. A bush attached to the right corner of my front bumper obscured my view. I passed the kids, took a wrong turn, then drove across some sallow crabgrass and thumped down the edging into the parking lot. I took the opposite approach and parked forwards, and my car hid its snout under the concrete divider... for safety, I think. Or, maybe it wanted a nap.
Everyone sat in sloppy rows across a huge empty street. Four-story colonial-era buildings locked elbows on the far side, and a crowd of Koreans jostled around the nearest, which seemed to be a restaurant. We were all hungry, but it seemed like all the Koreans were still in line. A sign over the counter revealed that they only served quiche, so we turned left and wandered down the street. Genevieve held a dozen corn chips in a dixie cup. Someone asked her to share, but she said she'd had to wait in line two hours just to get them.
I turned left and followed the empty street as it curved to the right. A few blocks later, I found an open-air fast-food spot at the back of small cul-de-sac. gnfnrf stood in line ahead of me. I realized I didn't have any money.
'Do you realize this is one of the only countries that still circulates its original pirate scrip as legal tender?' he asked earnestly, handing me a couple of the antique bills.
I stared blankly when the man behind the counter asked for my order. My eyes glazed over the menu, and someone said [this particular South-American country] was known for its titlachas. I asked what that was, and the man up-ended a pan of uncooked doughy rolls, forming a pyramid interlaced with a mixture of meat, beans, and salsa. The stack wobbled, then slides sideways; he lurched to catch it with the pan. Nearby, malcubed ate something burrito-shaped, and assured me the titlachas were pretty good, so I ordered one. I remember it being tasty, something like a doughy burrito without the cumin and tomato common in Mexican cooking.
I volunteered to help the church spread frisbees for God, since their plan to sell prayer potions fell through at the last minute. Peter (the pastor that officiated at our wedding) kept the group on task. We hauled everything in a large red truck for distribution. Charles (from work) helped toss the frisbees onto the buildings that had ordered them. We had to get the frisbees caught on the structure, usually on the corners of window sills. A high-class retirement home we visited posed the greatest challenge; we had to hook all the frisbees on the underside of a giant hexagonally-fractal balcony. It looked funny once we'd covered it in primary-colored spots.
Later, we visiting toy stores to deliver our product. The Mexican owner said it'd been a hard day. Peter looked at her, and said "Not today." (Meaning his pastoral care / chat will have to wait until tomorrow.) A kid played with some giant ball bearings in a cage of ramps. His parents asked whether they might escape. I demonstrated what would happen should a bearing shake free, and the parents seemed satisfied.
The quiet darkness of 4 PM on a Thursday settled across the mall as we left. Gray clouds sank lower, and only thirteen-year-old girls remained in the shopping areas.
xcorvis and Katie parked their car in a small lot. They agreed it was better to do it in reverse, then carefully backed one set of wheels over the concrete divider, probably for safety.
I waited as the train passed, edged forward as the kids on the other side dispersed, then pulled through the intersection. A bush attached to the right corner of my front bumper obscured my view. I passed the kids, took a wrong turn, then drove across some sallow crabgrass and thumped down the edging into the parking lot. I took the opposite approach and parked forwards, and my car hid its snout under the concrete divider... for safety, I think. Or, maybe it wanted a nap.
Everyone sat in sloppy rows across a huge empty street. Four-story colonial-era buildings locked elbows on the far side, and a crowd of Koreans jostled around the nearest, which seemed to be a restaurant. We were all hungry, but it seemed like all the Koreans were still in line. A sign over the counter revealed that they only served quiche, so we turned left and wandered down the street. Genevieve held a dozen corn chips in a dixie cup. Someone asked her to share, but she said she'd had to wait in line two hours just to get them.
I turned left and followed the empty street as it curved to the right. A few blocks later, I found an open-air fast-food spot at the back of small cul-de-sac. gnfnrf stood in line ahead of me. I realized I didn't have any money.
'Do you realize this is one of the only countries that still circulates its original pirate scrip as legal tender?' he asked earnestly, handing me a couple of the antique bills.
I stared blankly when the man behind the counter asked for my order. My eyes glazed over the menu, and someone said [this particular South-American country] was known for its titlachas. I asked what that was, and the man up-ended a pan of uncooked doughy rolls, forming a pyramid interlaced with a mixture of meat, beans, and salsa. The stack wobbled, then slides sideways; he lurched to catch it with the pan. Nearby, malcubed ate something burrito-shaped, and assured me the titlachas were pretty good, so I ordered one. I remember it being tasty, something like a doughy burrito without the cumin and tomato common in Mexican cooking.