You might be wondering why there is a picture of a salad up there. Then again you might also be wondering why your life is such an empty husk, never to see fulfillment, forever to be lost in between the pleats of the skirt of life. Just like that blasted vanilla milkshake from the Deli France in Odel. Thing tasted like sawdust in water.
Last night I had a very strange dream. Yes, I know what that sounds like, and no, this has not turned into one of those blogs.
Just hear me out. It was fun. It involved a bunch of talking vegetables, me, and an evil mole. They say the faces you see in dreams are ones you’ve seen when you were awake, consciously or otherwise. I was relieved to find that all my companions in the dream had no faces, in that dreamy censorship kind of way, meaning I probably hadn’t seen any anthropomorphic vegetables anywhere.
I was standing outside a house. I was small. Apparently I was about vegetable-sized too. I turn around and there was a carrot, a… leek(?) and a cabbage behind me, all looking very agitated(don’t ask me how I knew this without seeing faces).
It turned out that we were a band of vegetables running away from a mole who was hunting us down to return us to his human master, who was apparently a cook. We were thrown into a wild adventure through the rain gutters and roofing tiles, jumping off ceiling fan blades and ducking into cabinets with the mole hot on our heels. The technicalities of a mole being able to even see where it was going, let alone being physically able to dangle off the edge of the roof didn’t occur to the escaped ingredients.
Eventually, we were joined by a pineapple, who had escaped some time later. He also brought about our demise, when just as we were running towards a little boat docked in a stream nearby, which was to take us to freedom, safety and the joy of slowly rotting away in a few days, the mole ambushed us, ordered his henchman the cat to burn the boat, and threw a net over the lot of us.
Turned out the pineapple had snitched on us to save himself. What followed was a slow montage of cooking scenes full of salads. Sauces never looked so terrifying. There was even a corny-teen-movie like sequence at the end, with credits and “the cabbage went on to be eaten by the Duke of Wellington” etc.
Breakfast was uncomfortable.