Clearly, my subconscious thinks I’m an idiot.
Backstory: I love dried bananas. Yuuuuuum!! Since I no longer eat refined sugar, sweet natural things are my treats. I buy three packs of bananas from Costco, let them ripen then slice and put those tasty little morsels in the dehydrator. 12 hours or so at 165 degrees and chewy little wonders emerge.
While the dehydrator produces Abby the dog’s jealously guarded dried chicken treaties, she will quite happily also chow down on dried banana.
So I’d I bought bananas, thinking they would take a week to fully ripen. However, I didn’t take the heat and humidity into account and by Monday morning those babies were almost ready to go…and so was I. On a road trip to work.
So… I loaded the dehydrator into the car along with the bananas, waved goodbye to the hound and drove myself to the latest worksite.
First off… a hotel room is quite different from running the dehydrator in the kitchen while sleeping on the far side of the house. Second, who notices when you discard a pile of banana detritus at home? Into the bin and the trash man doesn’t even see as he flips the can into his nightmarish truck.
Well. The maid is gonna think I have a seeing-eye monkey with an eating disorder.
Also, I’m running the air at 66 degrees to combat the heat pumping outta that plastic wonder. And who knew the amount of moisture drying fruit releases? Holy crap. Add to that, Hampton Inn is one of the hotels which gives you a sheet and a heavy comforter – so you can have very little or a ton of covers. No interim.
So the heat in here is is fine, but sweaty.
Then there’s my subconscious. I figured on simian dreams… orangutans and chimps chowing down in psychedelic scenes. (Hey, that rhymes!). But, no. Nary a spaced out organ grinder to be seen (I’m on a roll…)
Instead, I dreamt of…Abby. And the lack of a food dehydrator, and coming up with the brilliant solution of drying the bananas…
…in her mouth. As she slept.
Like I said. My subconscious is convinced I’m a moron. Particularly given my distress upon discovering she didn’t notify me upon awaking but instead, SHE figured her subconscious would gift her with the most amazing experience of clutching dried bananas stuffed in her gob as she drifted from dreamland. She ever so quietly (shocking!) and gleefully gnawed down her bounty as, once I realized what was occurring, I futilely tried to pry her jaws apart.
REALLY?? Adding insult to injury, in this dream I realized I’d have to explain to my wife why I wound up with two little dried disks of fruit from nine pounds of bananas.
Of course, it didn’t occur to my subconscious as to how the hound could possibly manage to pelican that amount of food. Or why slimy banana slices would dry in one of the hottest, slobbery-est places on the planet. Or the end result of a dog consuming astonishing quantities of what will speed up your intestinal tract if eaten fully ripe (or…cooked…).
Sigh. Thank GOD I woke up before my subconscious made THAT connection.
ExaminingMisadventures 