Walking uphill, alone on a cracked sidewalk, I was just past the outskirts of an old town. Walking toward me in the street was a guy I recognized, I think from high school. He still looked the same as when I knew him, but as we got closer it was apparent he was drunk, and had an empty brown bottle in his hand. He smiled and I smiled back. After he had passed by, I looked over my shoulder. He had stopped behind a telephone pole. When he saw me look back, he threw the bottle at me, which shattered on the sidewalk in front of me. I said, “That wasn’t very nice. I’m barefoot.” As I maneuvered around the broken glass, he continued to throw things at me - rocks, trash, cans. But he was so drunk, both his strength and his aim were greatly affected, so I walked on unthreatened. It was all very Stanley Kubrick, in “A Clockwork Orange” kind of way.
I arrived to a rundown diner, now accompanied by someone else. I asked my boss - a petite, 60ish woman - if my friend could join us. The friend also asked if she was welcome, and the boss replied, “You will always be welcome, as long as you have not had any contact with live, warm animals.”
Looking around the kitchen, there were about 15 people. I assumed we were about to start serving food in the diner, when my boss said, “Stephanie, you’re first.” So I got a metal tray, like from a prison cafeteria, took it over to her, and she sprinkled an assortment of food onto it - pieces of a fried egg, what looked to be chunks of chicken-fried steak, and some green vegetables. They were just scattered across the tray and not compartmentalized into groups. The boss lady then said, “Go to your pod and eat.” I realized then that the food was being rationed and this was my portion. I walked out to the parking lot to find my car. The parking lot was grown up with weeds. Boxes and piles of junk were littered throughout, almost like an old salvage yard. I walked back to my car, the 1983 white Chevy S-10 blazer I had years ago, intending to get inside to sit down. When reaching the car, however, I realized the floorboards had been filled with soil, and we were growing vegetables inside. I remember thinking this was 2023.
Then my cell phone alarm went off and I woke up. I fully intended to blog about socks today, but this takes precedence because I don’t want it to slip away as dreams often do.
I’m usually good with interpretation, but this SyFy weirdness has me stumped.