Cheese Money and an Old Lady Purse: Use Your Words

 

Today’s post is a monthly writing challenge. If you’re new here, this is how it works: my friend Diane and I picked 4 – 6 words or short phrases to submit to each other to craft into a post. All words must be used at least once. Both posts will be unique as we each have our own set of words we're working with.

At the end of this post, you'll find the link to Diane's post, be sure to check it out, see what words I sent her and how she used them.

I'm using:  ambitious ~ ambiguous ~ anatomy ~ arc ~ anything

                          
I had a dream recently. I don't know if I don't have them often, or I just don't remember them. I haven't woken up aware of one for a very long time. This time I did, and what I could recall, was odd. To say the least. 

I've been thinking about it for a few days, trying to make sense of it. I'm not sure why it bothered me, it was a dream after all.

And yet, I really wanted to make sense of it.

I had absolutely no intention of writing about it today, but I saw these words Diane sent me and "ambiguous," "anatomy," "arc," they all brought back the dream.

I know it's ambitious, to try to analyze a dream to begin with, but especially since they are so ambiguous. Not only do we wake up without the puzzle put together, we don't even have all of the pieces.

Here's what I remember, not just what I saw in my mind's eye but what I was thinking, and my impressions, once awake, of what I hadn't been (but maybe should have) been thinking.

I had climbed up a rounded flight of stairs in a very old building. The floor below, I knew, was bustling with activity, an indoor space like at Faneuil Hall in Boston, artisan shops, florists, prepared foods, and a farmer's market.

I get the sense that I was in my late 30s, but I was dressed like an old lady. I wore a dress, belted at the waste, nylons, and sensible shoes. I was holding what I can only describe as an old lady purse. You know, black, wider in the bottom, tapering off to a smaller flat top with handles on either side. The purse was being held by the short handles, no over the shoulder option. It was flat, as though there wasn't anything in it, yet I knew I had, at least my wallet and money.

At the top of the stairs was a long thin hallway, shaped in an arc, with doors along the left side only. The hallway was just shaped like a half circle, but it arced up as well, each door higher than the last. All the way up to the middle, where the hall declined to another set of stairs, even with the ones I had climbed, going back down.

I got the sense that each door was an apartment, and I was to visit each one before heading back down the other staircase. 

On the first door, there was a picture, it looked like it was cut out of a magazine, of an arm. I wasn't curious, didn't knock, and walked right in the door to a bedroom. I chatted for a short time with the person on the bed and moved on. I was entering the third room when I became aware of a few things: all rooms were the same, inhabited by a different person, dressed, appearing healthy, unconcerned that I walked right in and willing to chat, and they all had a picture of a different part of the anatomy on the door. The pictures seemed to correlate to nothing, and were not discussed in our short superficial chats.

I walked down the second set of stairs, intending to purchase broccoli and onions for my dinner casserole at the farmer's market on the first floor.

Hash Brown Dinner Casserole

When paying, I realized I didn't have my purse. I looked over to the little wooden table where I'd sat before going upstairs. The purse wasn't there, but 3 snack size string cheese logs that I had apparently left on the table were there. I went over and grabbed the cheese, which was luckily exactly the amount I needed to pay for my groceries. I hooked the plastic bag over my wrist and started walking away from the cashier.

And woke up.

So . . . help me out here, what is my subconscious mind trying to tell me?

A) Instead of reading mysteries, I should write one: The Case of the Missing Old Lady Purse.

B) Don't spend too long in rooms with strangers unless you really want to know about that whole body parts thing.

C) I need to be buying my groceries with string cheese more often.

D) Sleep at your own risk.

E) All of the above.

Or maybe you have your own interpretation you'd like to share?

Here's the link to Diane's Use Your Words post:

On the Border

Hash Brown Dinner Casserole

                                               ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:

1 1/2 cups broccoli florets, cut small

2 cups cooked chicken

1 bag (20 oz) potato shreds

1/3 cup chopped onion

1 1/2 cups shredded sharp cheddar cheese

1 can (10.5 oz) cream of potato soup

1 cup sour cream

1 tsp salt

1/4 tsp pepper

1/8 tsp cayenne

2/3 cup crushed potato chips

3 TBSP butter, melted

1 tsp paprika

Directions:
*Steam the broccoli in the microwave for 1 minute. Chop the chicken.

*Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease an 8 X 11 baking dish.

*In a large bowl, mix together the broccoli, chicken, potato shreds, onion, cheese, soup, sour cream, salt, pepper, and cayenne. Pour evenly into the prepared baking dish.

*Sprinkle with the crushed potato chips, drizzle with the melted butter and sprinkle with the paprika.

*Bake for 25 minutes, covered. Uncover and bake for another 20 minutes.