Sunday, August 19, 2007

to sleep perchance

So I should probably tell you guys about my recurring dream.

It involves an ice cream cake. But not just any ice cream cake. A chocolate-raspberry ice cream cake. It has alternating layers of chocolate ice cream and chocolate cake, frosted in a raspberry glaze, and artfully garnished with raspberries.

Almost every night this week, I have dreamed about this chocolate-raspberry ice cream cake. Unfortunately, I cannot enjoy my ice cream cake because it is being held at the Baskin-Robbins across the street from my house. Like, directly across the street. In the middle of the neighborhood, between the houses, there is a Baskin-Robbins. And they have my cake.

I do not know by what chain of events I managed to acquire a vested interest in an ice cream cake that did not also include taking custody of said cake. Perhaps they had to special order it, or I was paying for it on lay-away, but regardless - they have my ice cream cake in their freezer.

So why can I not get my ice cream cake? Well, because I am only asleep at night, and Baskin-Robbins is not open at night. So by the time I go to bed and fall asleep, the Baskin-Robbins across the street from my house is closed. All I can do is stand in my driveway, lamenting the rare twist of dream practicality that prevents me from claiming my ice cream cake.

In this sense, it is perhaps not entirely accurate to say that this is a recurring dream, because it is not same dream over and over again. Rather, it is a serialized dream, as I somehow manage to recognize the previous nights of ice cream estoppel, and my frustration mounts in the wake of yet another night of being disallowed the ice cream cake that is rightfully mine.

Today was Sunday, and on Sunday I take a nap, if at all possible. So I swaddled myself in Serasoft and before too long, I was back in my dream. Except for this time, it was during the day. The Baskin-Robbins should be open, right?

No! Because this Baskin-Robbins is apparently not open on Sundays! So I still can't get my chocolate-raspberry ice cream cake. Not only that, but a psychopathic killer is on his way to kill me. I know this because my freshman-year Psychology professor emailed me and told me. In my dream. Before I got there. Or something.

So once again, I'm standing in my driveway, lamenting.

Out of nowhere, an elderly cowboy appears at my side, and our conversation progressed in such-and-such a manner:

"What seems to be the trouble, young man?"

"They have my chocolate-raspberry ice cream cake over there at the Baskin-Robbins, but every time I fall asleep to get it, they're closed."

"Well, then walk over there and get it."

"But I'd have to break in."


"So, that's illegal and I'd get in trouble."

"Yeah, but isn't there a psychopathic killer coming to kill you anyway?"

"Well, yeah."

"Then what difference does it make?"

"I suppose so you're right."

So I walked across the street, broke into Baskin-Robbins, and rescued my ice cream cake. I then dedicated myself to eating the whole thing in one sitting. Why wouldn't I? There's a psychopathic killer coming to kill me, so I might as well, right?

The psychopathic killer shows up to kill me, and finds me powering through the last of my ice cream cake. He seemed nonplussed, and decided not to kill me, because all he really wanted to do was keep me away from my ice cream cake, and now that I had it, the issue of killing me seemed, to him, rather moot. I found this deduction to be both reasonable and agreeable, and after finishing my ice cream cake, I woke up.

And the weirdest thing about all of this? I'm really not a huge fan of ice cream cake. However, that being said, I now crave some manner of chocolate ice cream with raspberry topping. Starting tomorrow, the acquisition of this concoction shall become my sole purpose in life.