I am a person that completely detests the re-occurrence of pasta seminars in principle, but I am physically unable to stay away from them. We all know that these awareness meets are a thing of modern understanding, and as such their hold on our state of mind is nothing short of astonishing. That the introduction of pasta-related banter has made such an incredible invasion of our psyche is an issue we need to address. We all love to discuss pasta, that is a fact these seminars have taught us and self-awareness is truly a gift bestowed in order to prevent perversion and social ignorance.
But, why should we be exposed to the very fault that the exposure is such a profound isotope for the mitigated blow-softening that shall dictate our pasta awareness is the very extremity of perception. I say we make a stand, boycott the seminars, and unite as cucumber cousins. For we know that this can only drive away themes of pasta, as cucumber and pasta can never live side by side (can you think of a single dish that combines pasta and cucumber) but it also opens up the possibility of issue relocation. It is a possibility that the cucumbers could take such a hold on for their gain.
I awoke this morning (or more appropriately, this afternoon, not having a job completely diverts all purpose from an individuals motivational core) from a very bizarre dream. This dream was one I can recall with one-hundred percent clarity which is a rarity for me; usually grasping details of my dreams simply causes the memory of them to dissipate. It was quite a strong and memorable dream.
I was picnicking in a small playground that resides in the street of my parents home, the street in which I grew up. The people I was picnicking with were people that I have never met, and present no real significance to their existence. Everything was going fine; we were nibbling on small morsels of food, without a worry in the world. Suddenly I felt I needed to leave, I was panicking, and the cause of the panic was undefined yet incredibly powerful. Up the side of the playground lays an alleyway that stretches either end, opening up into different streets as entrances. For an unfathomable reason I decided to flee through the end of the alleyway that did not lead to my parents street, this is irrelevant as it happened, because a horrible beast of a woman saw what I was trying to do, and blocked me off.
I begged her to let me through; I said that I was simply going home to grab my guitar. Bullshit, she says, you do not even play guitar, and anyone that knows me would totally agree with her. I spent the next few minutes trying to sidestep her to no avail, I was quite clearly outmatched. Suddenly, one of my fellow picnickers threw a rugby ball at me; this sent my panic into overdrive. I am not a sporty person, and I have never properly grasped the game, so it is not difficult to figure out the root of this panic.
Everybody started yelling encouragement at me, telling me to go for it, so I bent over, picked up the ball and started out in a sprint. Suddenly it felt as if I was running on slimy ice and I fell backwards, thusly dropping the ball from my limp hands. I heard the beginnings of laughter, and then I woke up with a start. I had obviously been sleeping in a funny position as my body felt all numb.
Peculiarly, I also had a small bit of adrenaline coursing through my system. I jumped straight out of bed, but I simply could not shake the peculiar feeling this dream had left me with for several hours, after putting some time into the video game that I am currently playing (my new job) the feeling faded away, and so I went out and pulled wings off monkeys.
The meaning of this dream is not clear to me, but I am trying to avoid over-analyzing this as due to the content of the dream, the derivations acquired from analysis would not be pleasurable news. I think that I would prefer to leave the dream as what it is, what it was, what it forever will be, and what Hitler gave the pregnant French camels as, an enigma.
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