I was on a rubber raft in the middle of an ocean. Three or four swordfish surrounded me. They were about to spear my raft and drown me — because they wanted my pension.
I wondered how I was to transfer my wealth to them — could they take it out in small, edible fish?
And so my dreamatorium continues to exceed expectations.
[February 13. Still another "I am lost" dream, but this one with an unusual feature. I am at a subway kiosk, trying to get a token or change for a $20 bill so I can board the train, and the attendant says to me, "do you want your change in money or in spaghetti?" Honest to Pete, that's what she said. I say, of course, "I'll have it in money, please," but nevertheless she hands me a pound of dry spaghetti, wrapped in cellophane or plastic, but already falling apart. I walk away with the pound of spaghetti and try to get rid of it by placing it on a window ledge, but a passer-by retrieves it and hands it back to me. "You forgot your spaghetti," he says. Soon after I find a garbage can and stow the spaghetti, and the dream continues in predictable channels.
I think the question, "Do you want your change in money or in spaghetti?" is one of the best sentences my dreamatorium has ever generated.]
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