Dream: "Chef," As Steven Segal And Geena Davis Are "Chefs"
Friday, February 8th:
Windows covered two walls of my spacious penthouse apartment on the north side of the third floor. From the outside, it should have been the Macalester student union. I walked out my door and down the long staircase. I turned right at the bottom, walking out of the hallway and into a lush garden in the old courtyard between Turck and Bigelow. Wooden pillars supported a vine-covered lattice over the entire garden. I was the garden's janitor, and I had to check on the plants early in the morning. I stopped to watch a line of wasps crawl sleepily out of a hole in one of the wooden pillars and look for something. I panicked when I noticed two of them stuck to my gray sweatshirt, but they were only confused, and they were very docile as I nudged them back onto the woodwork.
A wolf wandered into the courtyard, and I quickly shut the French doors to the garden to keep it out. I closed two more sets of doors before it could circle around, then I went back to the French doors and watched it through the windows.
It was only a lost doga (full-size) poodleand it got in somehow. I lead it out of the garden and up the steps to my apartment so it wouldn't mess up the plants. The hunting dog bounced around and barked, so I shut it in the laundry room with the dog food.
Megan leaned through the front door, a small bag in one hand, and asked to use my shower. I nodded, and she disappeared into the bathroom.
My janitorial intern knocked at the door. The nine-year-old boy told me he had a clean-up and asked if I could help. I told him he'd have to wait, and I shut the door.
Snowdrifts covered my living room floor, but they weren't cold and we didn't leave footprints when we walked across them. The spirit of a beautiful woman lay in a snowbank. Faint colors hinted her reclining imagethe curve of her bare shoulder, the line of an arm, her faceall in peach, rose, and blood red. She looked like a living airbrush painting, and I thought of the stains left by wet flower petals.
Meanwhile, I'd become a statuesque brunette woman in an overcoat and a constant frown. I knew the snow-woman, but I rebuffed her when she asked me something.
I told the kid to come help me deal with the dog.
Megan walked out of the bathroom wrapped in a white terrycloth robe, rubbing a towel across the back of her head, but her dark curls were already pinned up, completely dry. I worried briefly that the kid might think she'd spent the night with me, but he didn't seem to notice.
The kid checked the drawers of the table in the entryway while I headed for the laundry room. I could hear the dog eating excitedly. The kid told me he found it, holding up a large steel tag. I read the name "Murderchef" engraved on the tag, and wondered how its owner might have trained the animal. I opened the door to the laundry room and called, "Murderchef?"
I found the dog sitting in its food dish. (The blue-gray plastic food dish was split down the center, both sides filled with several pounds of dog food, each bowl as big as my washing machine.) The dog looked up as I walked in, then jumped over the divider into the other bowl and returned to munching its kibble.
The kid called from the bottom of the stairs; he said he needed help in the nursery. As I walked out the door and shut it behind me, I caught my bathrobe on the door latch and nearly unwrapped myself. I straightened out my clothes and became myself again. I stopped by the bookcase at the bottom of the stairs and shuffled through my old gaming books. I pulled out the first three versions of the AD&D DMG and headed for the nursery. While my intern distracted the young'n's with the arcane complexities of the game, I explained what they were doing to the nervous woman running the nursery.
I returned to my apartment as the brunette, stressed about all the things I oversaw. I consulted a wall covered in charts or knobs or calendars. The gorgeous image in the snow stirred beside me.
"Don't you want me?" she asked sadly.
I turned away from the wall of responsibilities. "Of course I do," I answered.
The snow melted to nothing as the woman turned into fire, then she stood and became flesh, stepping close to me. Our lips met in a long kiss even as the flames were still deciding where her legs should be.
I was myself again when my intern walked in with a friend from the nursery. They looked worried, and held up an open blister pack for a Warhammer mini (a pewter d6, actually). They explained that they'd accidentally opened the die that had been cast around [Grnthgg]'s nose, keeping the troll captive, and now he was free. I played along and told them not to worry, that [Grnthgg] was only a 500-point special character anyhow.
"But he's coming this way!" they warned.
Heavy pounding shook the doors and a voice like a garbage truck called our names. [Grnthgg]'s great gray hand wrapped around the corner of the building; I could see his fingertips on the glass. I imagined him leaning around the corner to peer in the window, and guessed his arms must be 14 feet long. I opened the far window and hung by my arms, then dropped before he could spot me.
I landed outside the wall of the zoo. Inside, the African drumming had excited the animals. A leopard slunk out the front gate while a boa constrictor slithered along the wall above me, unnoticed behind the jungle trees. When I reached the entrance, I saw that a zookeeper had captured the leopard with a robotic boa-constrictor. The leopard looked miffed, but calm. Passersby marveled. Meanwhile, the real boa constrictor slipped away before the giant purple animatronic plush tarantula that hung from the ceiling could sit on him.
I tried to photograph the concentrating faces of the art students and their visiting speaker as they sketched the internal architecture of the old church-turned-museum. I maneuvered carefully to get in front of them without calling attention to myself or getting in the way. The museum director recognized me and smiled, then began chatting with some old ladies about the recent caucuses.
Windows covered two walls of my spacious penthouse apartment on the north side of the third floor. From the outside, it should have been the Macalester student union. I walked out my door and down the long staircase. I turned right at the bottom, walking out of the hallway and into a lush garden in the old courtyard between Turck and Bigelow. Wooden pillars supported a vine-covered lattice over the entire garden. I was the garden's janitor, and I had to check on the plants early in the morning. I stopped to watch a line of wasps crawl sleepily out of a hole in one of the wooden pillars and look for something. I panicked when I noticed two of them stuck to my gray sweatshirt, but they were only confused, and they were very docile as I nudged them back onto the woodwork.
A wolf wandered into the courtyard, and I quickly shut the French doors to the garden to keep it out. I closed two more sets of doors before it could circle around, then I went back to the French doors and watched it through the windows.
It was only a lost doga (full-size) poodleand it got in somehow. I lead it out of the garden and up the steps to my apartment so it wouldn't mess up the plants. The hunting dog bounced around and barked, so I shut it in the laundry room with the dog food.
Megan leaned through the front door, a small bag in one hand, and asked to use my shower. I nodded, and she disappeared into the bathroom.
My janitorial intern knocked at the door. The nine-year-old boy told me he had a clean-up and asked if I could help. I told him he'd have to wait, and I shut the door.
Snowdrifts covered my living room floor, but they weren't cold and we didn't leave footprints when we walked across them. The spirit of a beautiful woman lay in a snowbank. Faint colors hinted her reclining imagethe curve of her bare shoulder, the line of an arm, her faceall in peach, rose, and blood red. She looked like a living airbrush painting, and I thought of the stains left by wet flower petals.
Meanwhile, I'd become a statuesque brunette woman in an overcoat and a constant frown. I knew the snow-woman, but I rebuffed her when she asked me something.
I told the kid to come help me deal with the dog.
Megan walked out of the bathroom wrapped in a white terrycloth robe, rubbing a towel across the back of her head, but her dark curls were already pinned up, completely dry. I worried briefly that the kid might think she'd spent the night with me, but he didn't seem to notice.
The kid checked the drawers of the table in the entryway while I headed for the laundry room. I could hear the dog eating excitedly. The kid told me he found it, holding up a large steel tag. I read the name "Murderchef" engraved on the tag, and wondered how its owner might have trained the animal. I opened the door to the laundry room and called, "Murderchef?"
I found the dog sitting in its food dish. (The blue-gray plastic food dish was split down the center, both sides filled with several pounds of dog food, each bowl as big as my washing machine.) The dog looked up as I walked in, then jumped over the divider into the other bowl and returned to munching its kibble.
The kid called from the bottom of the stairs; he said he needed help in the nursery. As I walked out the door and shut it behind me, I caught my bathrobe on the door latch and nearly unwrapped myself. I straightened out my clothes and became myself again. I stopped by the bookcase at the bottom of the stairs and shuffled through my old gaming books. I pulled out the first three versions of the AD&D DMG and headed for the nursery. While my intern distracted the young'n's with the arcane complexities of the game, I explained what they were doing to the nervous woman running the nursery.
I returned to my apartment as the brunette, stressed about all the things I oversaw. I consulted a wall covered in charts or knobs or calendars. The gorgeous image in the snow stirred beside me.
"Don't you want me?" she asked sadly.
I turned away from the wall of responsibilities. "Of course I do," I answered.
The snow melted to nothing as the woman turned into fire, then she stood and became flesh, stepping close to me. Our lips met in a long kiss even as the flames were still deciding where her legs should be.
I was myself again when my intern walked in with a friend from the nursery. They looked worried, and held up an open blister pack for a Warhammer mini (a pewter d6, actually). They explained that they'd accidentally opened the die that had been cast around [Grnthgg]'s nose, keeping the troll captive, and now he was free. I played along and told them not to worry, that [Grnthgg] was only a 500-point special character anyhow.
"But he's coming this way!" they warned.
Heavy pounding shook the doors and a voice like a garbage truck called our names. [Grnthgg]'s great gray hand wrapped around the corner of the building; I could see his fingertips on the glass. I imagined him leaning around the corner to peer in the window, and guessed his arms must be 14 feet long. I opened the far window and hung by my arms, then dropped before he could spot me.
I landed outside the wall of the zoo. Inside, the African drumming had excited the animals. A leopard slunk out the front gate while a boa constrictor slithered along the wall above me, unnoticed behind the jungle trees. When I reached the entrance, I saw that a zookeeper had captured the leopard with a robotic boa-constrictor. The leopard looked miffed, but calm. Passersby marveled. Meanwhile, the real boa constrictor slipped away before the giant purple animatronic plush tarantula that hung from the ceiling could sit on him.
I tried to photograph the concentrating faces of the art students and their visiting speaker as they sketched the internal architecture of the old church-turned-museum. I maneuvered carefully to get in front of them without calling attention to myself or getting in the way. The museum director recognized me and smiled, then began chatting with some old ladies about the recent caucuses.