This morning I had a dream of driving across the vast Canadian prairie to the Yarn Harlot‘s house for tea. She showed me the BGH* under her house, which, in my dream, was actually in one of the kids’ bedrooms and looked kind of like the pit at ground zero. (Seriously, it was enormous. There was even a crane in there.) After she showed me around, we walked across the prairie to an Indian restaurant near her house where we dined on fragrant Indian cuisine with the proprietress of the restaurant, a beautiful Indian woman in colorful sari and with a jeweled bindi on her forehead. Afterward, the Yarn Harlot and I walked back to her house. I woke up wondering what had happened to the city of Toronto.
*Big Giant Hole
Your dreams are weird. But I have it on good authority (mine) that you are weirder. Just saying.
Hmm, Indian food…
Indian food? Yes, that jives with reality.
Prairies near Toronto? Not so much.
Big hole? Quite possibly.
Maybe your dream means you should knit something in brightly coloured silk?
No more spicy food for you before bedtime! lol
Sounds like Canada.
Maybe you have been eating too much curry lately?
Ah. We need to eat more Indian. And wear saris. Or at least dream about it!
Love the weirdness of dreams.