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Saffron Shirt
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1582
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
- Hits: 1486
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
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1646
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.
New Salad Girl
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: People
- Hits: 1487
A new salad girl started last week, appeared on a Friday night, pale, looking a bit plump in her chef's uniform, unremarkable in every way. By Saturday night she had disappeared, gone the way (I supposed) of so many others.
Tonight, the night before Valentines, she shows up with her boyfriend for dinner.
Blonde, fit, she gives me a quizzical look: "You don't recognize me". And I'm for a moment terrified. She saves me: "I started last week...." and I breathe a sigh of relief, her name, memorable only because it was a slight variation on a common name with heavily pretentious overtones.
The boys, the boss, all pass by the table and chat with them. And by the end of the night the Nephew has persuaded them to join us at the local dire pub for drinks.
I meet up with them.
I talk to the boyfriend, polite enough, he manages another infamous Italian restaurant in the city. Light conversation, pleasantries, they pay and leave.
No sooner than they have left the table then the nephew begins: 'The boyfriend, he's a nice guy....' And I nod my acknowledgement. He continues, louder:
"...but i want to fuck the hell out of his girlfriend..."
I laugh and shake my head, looking down, looking up I spot the boyfriend perhaps 10 feet away, he's waiting for his girlfriend to finish up in the washroom. I'm not sure if he heard, but he's not catching my eye. I'm guilty by acquaintance in the worst of possible ways.
I tell the nephew, at first he's concerned, when they've left he asks me if I think they've heard, doesn't wait for an answer....
"...I want to fuck her so bad, but not to worry, I have a plan. I'm not very smart with work, but I'm pretty smart with this..."
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