Okay, so tonight I heard a barista telling another barista about a dream she had. If you don't like hearing about other people's dreams, especially second-hand, my apologies.
She and her boyfriend (she didn't use the word, only the guy's name, but it's an educated guess) were eight years old again. And they got married, but only, as she says, for tax purposes. Her father was angry that he wasn't invited to the wedding, until she assured him it was just because of taxes and they were going to get divorced.
Then the boyfriend/husband turned into a buffalo chicken pizza and died. She describes sobbing in the dream.
That last part might have been a case of one hemisphere censoring to soften the effect of the other, if the body was so damaged that it started looking pizzalike. But at least she was laughing as she told the story, so it wasn't a lasting trauma.
She and her boyfriend (she didn't use the word, only the guy's name, but it's an educated guess) were eight years old again. And they got married, but only, as she says, for tax purposes. Her father was angry that he wasn't invited to the wedding, until she assured him it was just because of taxes and they were going to get divorced.
Then the boyfriend/husband turned into a buffalo chicken pizza and died. She describes sobbing in the dream.
That last part might have been a case of one hemisphere censoring to soften the effect of the other, if the body was so damaged that it started looking pizzalike. But at least she was laughing as she told the story, so it wasn't a lasting trauma.
2 comments:
A buffalo chicken pizza? I can't begin to imagine what Carl Jung would have made of that image.
I don't know, lunch? :)
It's the kind of image where people may say Freud would have a field day, but I suspect he would just feel queasy.
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