Dreams

There was a party with young people. They were having a great time seeing which kitchen appliances could shoot a ping pong ball across the room. The popcorn popper seemed to work for this. Not the microwave.  There were great peals of laughter and I was among those laughing.  

***

My daughter had come back from a trip to an Asian country, possibly Malaysia or Thailand. She had discovered there a dish to make which she called simply "The Food."  "The Food" was easy to make and only required a few, easy-to-find ingredients.  We were eating it along with some things we had gotten at the poke bowl place, and some other things I couldn't identify. There was a large group of people there.  "The Food" had a nondescript aspect to it, and, of course, no memorable taste, since food never has taste for me in my dreams.

***

There were numerous other dreams before or after these two, in rapid succession and with little continuity. I was at the MLA at a hotel bar. A young woman with short brown hair had just arrived. We talked about the wounds the profession had inflicted on us. I said something dismissive about her experience (!) and she answered with a "That's easy for you to say." This rebuke was fully justified, but of course the entire dream emerged from my brain, so I feel comfortable telling you about it. I then lay there half awake for a while thinking about whether the wounds of the profession and of life, in my case, have been self-inflicted.