Sid Roth coined the phrase “pizza dream” to describe a dream that is very vivid, the cause of which is eating too much pizza right before bed.
Last night I had one of those dreams. I’m going to write it out, as much as I remember, to see if it makes sense at all. If you have any ideas, well that’s what the comment section is for.
There are many theories on dream interpretation: biblical and secular. There is also the personal.
*As usual any names are changed to protect the innocent and camouflage the guilty.
So last nights’ dream goes like this:
I was in Chicago. (I live in Upstate NY and have only been in Chicago to change flights at O’Hare.) An ex-coworker *Dwight was there in the crowd, and he was a celebrity; everyone there thought he was special.
I kept trying to leave Chicago and get back to New York, but there were tricks, deceptions, and obstacles. (Just like life.) There was a big industrial elevator that I was on with a friend. The operator was making the elevator move up and down, but it never went all the way to the top until two important people from Chicago got on, and then it went to the top. They easily got off the elevator and went on their way, but my nameless/faceless friend and I had to struggle to go over a fence to get to the same walkway.
Back in the crowd, there was a difficult song that the leader wanted us to sing. It involved singing up and down scales quickly, and the lyrics were complicated. Many of us were unable to sing the song and wanted to leave the area, but we couldn’t get through the crowd to leave.
There was a large rock/cement block with an inscription on it. We were all down by the river and up above was a small town; the crowd had all grown up together and it was a happy community–except for me and my nameless/faceless friend, and for a while I wished I had grown up there.
Later I was at a bar (I’m not a big drinker; an occasional beer on a hot August day, and a shot of Bailey’s at Christmas) and I was drinking a large rum and coke. It cost $15, which I paid, but before I finished it, the female bartender wanted three more dollars. I left a sip in the bottom of the drink and gave it back to the male bartender and said, “Here’s your $3 worth.”
They then made a snide remark about my NY accent.
I was trying to leave again–trying to go through hallways and down stairs to get to a train to leave. *Matthew was there (a kid I grew up with) and was trying to be “affectionate” but I was in NO way interested and fought him off. He finally gave up.
At one point I was inside a tent with a few unknown people and a Native Canadian who thought it was warm enough inside the tent, even though it was cold and windy, he was comfortable with his one blanket. The wind was blowing in through the bottom of the tent, we were sitting on snow, I was freezing, but he kept saying it was warm enough.
Then a man who lived in Chicago showed us his office. The floor of his office was a lawn, with brick paver stones, which he had taken from his backyard and brought into his office.
THEN I woke up.