Брокколи

I owe the 31 Dreamers an apology. Yesterday's entry was totally unhealthy and perhaps a little heavy-handed when it comes to advocating certain ways of eating. So, taking inspiration from sensible dietary politic of The Omnivore's Dilemma as well as the new leaf  recently turned over by Cookie Monster, we bring you a much more healthful Dream of the Day. But first, Cookie Monster: 

Now, the dream,  described as, "one of those morning ones when you keep waking up and then falling back to sleep," dreamt by Jules in Arcata, California:

In the dream I am at a grocery store in Russia, trying to buy a bunch of broccoli. The cashier at the checkout counter—a young, good-looking guy with dark hair and eyes—is speaking to me in Russian. In reality, I don't really know what Russian sounds like, but in the dream I can hear all these beautiful shhh and zhhh sort of sounds somersaulting over each other when he talks. However, I have no idea what he's saying, and I think, this guy does not speak English. I wonder if he knows that I am an American and that I don't speak Russian, and consider asking him if he speaks English, but decide just to roll with it. I slide my card through the machine, glancing at the broccoli that awaits.

Wow Jules, your dream has me blushing. Do you not find this interaction as seductive as I do? The glistening green broccoli, that handsome cashier and his sexy Russian consonants—and let's not forget the way that you slid your card through his machine. Maybe I'm reading too much into this but hey, that's my job. And this is more of a romance dream than a sex fantasy, beginning with you walking right up to a total stranger with some flowers. Yeah I know, the bouquet is in the form of broccoli and you don't exactly give it to the guy, but you let him know that they're there (flowers, broccoli, whatever). And you're there too, Jules, about to go back to wherever you're staying, to prepare this mouthwateringly delectable brassicas, light some candles, and dine. And maybe he can imagine (in sexy Russian of course) an empty chair at that table whose seat is moulded to perfectly contain his young, good-looking derrière.

But seriously Jules.

This cashier is somebody you'd like to know better (and not necessarily in a romantic kinda way) but there are things standing in your way. In the dream there's the obvious language barrier, and also the physical/social barrier of the checkout counter—Mr. Dark-Hair-and-Eyes is on one side doing his job-job, you're on the other buying your produce. The most substantial interaction that you share comes from the swiping of a plastic card and the pushing of plastic buttons. It's not just him that you feel estranged from, but the whole damn way of doing things—almost like you're a stranger in a strange land, speaking a different language and possessing a differing set of customs altogether. Does this cashier understand you? He might in time Jules. You just have to keep going back.

23 Dreamers down, 8 more to go. Stay tuned.