Monday, December 27th, 2010

In last night’s dream I was somehow involved in shooting a scene from a movie. I don’t remember much of that, just the coffee.

After the scene was shot we all lined up at a roach coach to get some coffee and baked goods. John Cleese in full-on Basil Fawlty mode was serving brownies at the door. I took one and shuffled through the line to the coffee spigots, which were many. The first one dispensed something hot and brown that was not coffee. I raised the mug to my lips and took a sip expecting coffee, then did a spit-take and looked around for some place to dump it. There was none, so I just left it, mug and all, by the dish rack and grabbed a new mug.

The second spigot dispensed only hot water. There was a huge aquarium next to the chow line, so I dumped it in there, figuring it was only water and wouldn’t hurt anything. Boiling water, sure, but only the weaklings in the tank would complain about that, right?

I got milk from the third spigot. By this time I was getting a little disgusted by the way this was set up and had begun to cuss loudly at the spigots, the people who ran the roach coach, the world, the universe, whatever. The people in line behind me were getting a trifle upset at my futzing around, too. If this kept up, I could see we’d soon be trading black eyes.

I reached past the guy in line behind me to get another mug, then tried the fourth spigot. Coffee and cream. Imagine my disgust. Who the hell puts cream in the coffee urn? Basil Fawlty, I suspect.

I didn’t get any coffee in this dream because My Darling B’s soft snoring woke me up before I had the chance to try the fifth spigot, or anything beyond. I was probably better off that way.

Coffee Coffee Coffee | 6:04 am CDT
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