The past few nights, I’ve had some really disgusting dreams.
Two nights ago, I decided to try a recipe I found in the intertubes: Red Lobster Cheddar Bay Biscuits. They were really easy to make, and though they didn’t look as tasty as the picture, they were delicious (so much so that my friends made me make them again the next night). I probably ate more than I should, considering they are slathered in butter and filled with cheese, but I simply couldn’t let something so tasty go to waste when there were leftovers…
That night, I had a dream that there were sticks of butter lying around, and to keep them from going to waste, I ate them, plain, as one would eat a twinkie. The texture and taste were very vivid, and the whole thing was just about as disgusting as it sounds, but, dammit, that butter would have been wasted (waist be damned!).
I think the lesson there was to let things be wasted, or to prevent waste by making less of the thing in the first place. Or to let leftovers lie in ziploc bags in the fridge.
Yesterday, I took a personal day off work and spent a good chunk of the day out on the lake in happicow‘s sailboat. By the end of the day, I felt pretty disgusting as a result of getting too much sun, having too much sunblock slop on my person, and being surrounded by too much lake air and bugs for too long a time.
Last night, I had a dream that I had gone swimming in the lake, and when I later disrobed back at home, I found about a half dozen bloodsucking Lovecraftian terrors, all dead, and some still attached to me, beneath my bathing suit. They were about the size of the palm of one hand, and were shaped similarly to squids, excepting that each tentacle ended in a sucking leech-like mouth. Some of their corpses simply fell away, but some were still attached, and as I pulled each tentacle free, there was a terrible pop, and I was unsure whether that was just the tentacle coming free, or the tip breaking off.
I think the lesson there is that the outdoors is full of disgusting things, and that I should stay as far away as possible.
I think the moral of this story is that I shouldn’t try new things, because my subconscious apparently has a lot of trouble dealing with that. Or, alternately, I should try new things, because weird dreams are fun in a completely disturbing eldritch horror sort of way.