Wide Awake in Wonderland

We’re only dancing on this earth for a short while

Diary of the blogger as a not-so-young woman October 13, 2008

I won’t beleaguer the whole ‘how the f–k did I get so old!?” thing. You don’t want to hear about it, and neither do I.

Instead, indulge me on a little trip through my psyche and the random thoughts that occupy it on this, the occasion of my birth:

  • Last night I dreamed that I got married, and the ceremony was traditional to the (never identified) groom’s culture. It was also complex.
  • I was wearing an ornate dress that took hours to put on, but the real focus of the ceremony was a little girl. She was made up to look like a doll (kind of like Raggedy Ann), and after the vows were complete, someone brought this wooden box (a little like a coffin) to the front. The box was presented to the onlookers and opened, and this little girl – about five or six years old – emerged in her doll costume. She was quite the ham, and the wedding guests were ENTHRALLED. I remember thinking that she had on way more makeup than I (the bride) did. I vaguely wondered if maybe I should have made myself up more.
  • I can still picture the expression of utter joy on this one guest’s (who I thought was maybe the doll-girl’s mother) face. However, to be fair, the guests were all about this doll-girl, who I thought perhaps was meant to symbolize the future children of the marriage.
  • Then the dream cut to the reception, and I didn’t really know anyone. It was strange because I was meant to be the focus of the celebration (at least in weddings as I know them), but I felt kind of auxiliary. I wasn’t upset about it. I somehow chalked it up to cultural differences. The last thing I remember was reading the box for the bustle and realizing I was wearing not just one, but two of them, necessary to make my huge dress as large as it needed to be.
  • I’m totally crappy at interpreting dreams, but I’ve come up with something about a culture that worships youth and giving up one’s expectations of attention to those younger than you. Otherwise, I’m baffled.

So otherwise, the dream was probably the most exciting thing that happened today. As birthdays go, mine was super mellow.

Ran. Checked pulse – still going. Sat on beach (windy/freezing). Ate lunch – spanikopita from bakery. Sat by pool (less windy/boring). Read some of “The Omnivore’s Dilemma” – Did you know it takes one pound of petroleum to make one pound of food!?!?!? Worried about future of the earth and wished I’d paid more attention during “An Inconvenient Truth.”

Skyped with friends
E-mailed with friends
Ate some crappy greasy calamari for dinner. MUST AVENGE THIS BIRTHDAY DINNER INJUSTICE.
Felt grateful for those of you that realized that it wasn’t ‘just another day’ (at least to me). We all want to be be consequential and matter to someone else…and you’re that for me. The favor will be returned. And until then…THANK YOU.

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There’s nothing quite so sweet as Monarch butterly meat July 2, 2008

Filed under: Dreams — wideawakeinwonderland @ 6:36 am
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Today is going to be a busy one, and out of concern that I won’t have time to do my blogging later tonight, I’m on it first thing this morning. However, I’m not really at my best in the early morning, and I’m still getting over this super weird dream. So in the spirit of dreams helping to connect one to the greater myths and themes and issues of their life, I’ll share it with you. If anyone out there is a gifted dream interpreter (or even a willing hack or bored amateur), feel free to have at it.

Okay, as I remember it, I was at a cooking competition, and we were offered our choice of meats with which to prepare a meal. I decided to go with the Monarch Butterfly. I’d never heard of this, so I was possibly making the task uneccesarily challenging (not being familiar with the flavor or cooking times), but I suppose I was feeling ballsy. We were also given an assistant, and I recognized mine as Hung, the winner of the third season of Top Chef.

So, just to give you the scene, we were in a little outdoor kitchen, kind of like something you’d find at a fair or carnival. The butterfly meat was quite large and pale – like a razor clam or a split breast of chicken. I decided to cut the butterfly meat, bread it, and cook it in butter – like cutlets. I put Hung in charge of tending to the frying process, as I went to work on some other items. At some point, I look over and it’s very clear he’s pulled the meat while it’s still raw, as it’s clear and pinkish in the spots that don’t have breading on them. I felt frustrated as – c’mon already, he’s the winner of Top Chef! He can do better than this! – but I put it all back in the pan to finish cooking and didn’t comment.

It’s at this point it occurs to me that I’ve never seen a butterfly large enough to produce such a giant piece of meat. I start grilling Hung, “Where are these butterflies from? Are they endangered? Is it okay that we’re eating them?” However, before he could get back to me with a response, a man comes up and introduces himself. His last name is so complicated I have him repeat it four or five times and then finally say back to him, “Mocha Chocalata ya ya?” This suddenly sets off a bout of singing at all the competing outdoor kitchens, and some of these people are really damn good.

I’m watching this for a while, and then I walk back over to my outdoor kitchen where I find that Hung has burned up several pans and thrown them in the trash and all the spatulas and tongs and turners are completely ruined with the handles completely melted off or bent in two or the like. Needless to say, I was pretty ticked off at the guy, but there wasn’t time to get into it with him. Besides, what was done was done.

I now turned my attention to my (thankfully not ruined) butterfly cutlets. I was considering making a hollandaise sauce flavored with lavender and honey, although I still had no idea what the meat tasted like and if that would be any good. However, I liked the idea of it, as it seemed an appropriate garnish for a paleolithic butterfly.

Then I woke up.

THE END.