Little Pig

Last night when I got home I snacked on blueberries, a grapefruit, and bread with Earth Balance. Later I fried up a Polish sausage and dipped it into Grey Poupon. Shortly thereafter I walked over to the local bookstore, chatted with my friend Kerrie, and then went to see "Juno". The movie made me cry. I walked home alone in the cold.

After taking a relaxing bath and watching a few YouTubes I faded off to sleep. I dreamt that I had been given two tickets to a taste tester event. Tall make-shift counters had been set up in a large warehouse dividing the huge space in half. On one side foreign cooks scurried about cooking unusual dishes designed for mature palettes and on the other side people swam through the grand open space debating which chef's cuisine they should consume.

I located a vacant space and handed over one of my Two-for-One Taster tickets to a woman with hair slicked back into a tight pony-tail. She didn't smile. She didn't say a word. She walked away and quickly returned to me with a piping hot casserole. I was terribly famished, so I quickly took a bite and burned my tongue. As I begged for a glass of water to squelch the pain a patron bumped into me and before I could respond I was shuffled into another space at the counter. I was relocated next to a precocious child. The little boy beamed with joy as he looked up at me. He tried to communicate with me, but I could barely understand his gibberish. Finally, I realized that he was too short to reach the counter, so I lifted him up onto a stool and I tried to get the cook's attention again. Then something rather strange happened. A tiny pig stepped into my food and oinked at me. The child squealed with delight and stroked the piglets back. Needless to say, I was shocked, mortified, and delighted all at the same time. I took the boy's lead and pet the pig's pink back. The pig nuzzled into me like a puppy and I was suddenly overwhelmed with remorse. This is where my lucid dreaming set in because I immediately recollected eating the polish sausage. How could I have eaten this little precious pig? As he stared up at me, his tiny hooves stuck with casserole and Grey Poupon, I screamed, "Is this some sort of sick joke?" The child giggled at what appeared to be my silliness. No one else noticed my outburst. I looked into the sweet soulful innocent eyes of the pig and whispered, "I'm sorry. Your year is coming to an end my friend. The rat is coming."