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Saffron Shirt

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Written by: Rod Boyle

Category: Dreams

Published: 18 February 2012

Hits: 1660

My side of the dining room is empty, pulling apart a large table that just left, a quiet long weekend, when I glance towards the door, there's another large group entering the restaurant, and just as suddenly we're pulling the table back together ...

I'm not happy, it was looking like an early night, and a couple of the people, older "trophy" blondes, I recognize them and am not so happy, I have to quickly to the bathroom, ...

Heading downstairs I look down at my shirt, it's a bright saffron yellow, this doesn't seem right, and I have an inkling, begin tapping on my wrist and asking myself if I'm awake or dreaming...the answer isn't clear...

I enter the bathroom, 2 urinals on the wall, wall a bright yellow as well, same as my shirt, tapping my wrist more and asking myself more urgently, I want to turn this dream around, get lucid..

...and I wake up.

(lucidity, but no control, and at the cost of having a dream about the restaurant...) 

Sex Toys

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Written by: Rod Boyle

Category: People

Published: 14 February 2012

Hits: 1565

A longstanding waitress has decided to treat a new boyfriend - common-law husband to a spicy treat this Valentines.

She wants to surprise him with some Sex Toys.

We've a lovers boutique near the restaurant, and while the restaurant is closed she decides to haul me over to pick out a toy or two.

Her reasoning is that I'm the only man on staff who's shown no interest in her, is somewhat discreet and - here I conjecture - possibly has some authority on the subject. I don't know, I'm only guessing, but given the choice of coworkers, I'm the one I'd bring as well. She doesn't want to go alone, and as I've some professed academic expertise (I'm online a lot...).

This is her first foray into a sex shop. This shop, the lovers boutique, it's far from the best, overpriced novelty toys from China, imported for a dollar and sold on for a hundred, the quality is low, prices are high, I'm not a fan. I recommend to her a few other shops that by reputation are far better.

She's in a rush, doesn't care.

So we glance through the toys, in the end she's drawn towards a variety pack, I recommend against it - the silicon is lousy, the attachments will be lost, the quality - as far as I can tell, isn't there, and I've never known a woman who really used the full variety of attachments. There are better toys for less.

She won't be dissuaded. 

So off she goes to buy her Valentines gift for her new beloved, a variety pack of sex toys for herself. I can say nothing.

Lucid

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Written by: Rod Boyle

Category: Dreams

Published: 14 February 2012

Hits: 1717

And for the past few days I've been working on the Lucid Dreaming.
When I remember, perhaps 20 or 30 times per day, I look about and ask myself if I'm awake or if I'm dreaming.

I know the answer, of course, but it's the exercise, and sometimes, depending on the conversation, it can be hard to tell. If I'm talking to the Nephew or G or Z or sometimes M or the Owner I find myself tapping my wrist, "Awake or Asleep?", just to be sure. An extra anchor.

Somehow I've *mostly(?) managed to banish restaurant dreams from my sleep, that's good, I hate restaurant dreams, there's no one in the world who hates their job more than I. A variety of dreams, most forgotten, I take the forgetting of them to mean they weren't of the caliber to be remembered, the forgetting is the natural selection, the evolution of dreams.

This is not necessarily true. The forgetting is merely the slow awakening, the ill-jotted down notes or mislaid pen, the lack of immediate (and apparent) sense to the dream, the uncomfortably personal nature of it.

But no - or few - restaurant dreams, that's good. Although the characters from the restaurant show up, and that isn't good, but it's a reminder of how narrow my world is there. The Lucidity will come, with practice, or variations in technique, it's good enough (as far as I can remember) to be somewhat rid of the restaurant those 8 hours a day I'm not there.