I had two excellent, hilarious, and related dreams this morning.
* * * * *
Brother and I and someone else are sitting at a table in a small college cafeteria. I have a box of cookies on the table to my left, next to where my arm is resting. Brother steals one and asks, “What are these called?” He pops it into his mouth without chewing. I intuitively realize that if I can come up with a clever enough name for the cookie, he has to give it back. Luckily, I am somehow prepared for this eventuality.
“It’s called ‘Mister Cookie Face.’ Give it back.”
Realizing he’s been bested—although I can’t exactly explain how—he instantly spits out the damp but unchewed cookie and deposits it on the plate in front of me.
“THANK you,” I say triumphantly. The guy sitting to my left looks completely baffled by what has just transpired.
* * * * *
Okay, so that was Dream Number One. Dream Number Two happened a few minutes later, after I rolled over.
* * * * *
Brother and I are at Dad’s old apartment, and the three of us are sitting on the sofa. I decide to put on a movie. There are three televisions in two cabinets sitting next to each other. The two small ones seem to provide the picture for the big main one, but once the main one is going, the little ones can be turned off so as not to distract from the main. It’s complicated. I go through the elaborate process, turn off the two small TV’s, and sit back on the couch next to Brother and Dad. I tell Brother, “Oh yeah, I had a funny dream just now.”
“Yeah. You and I were having an argument about the name of a cookie. Whoever came up with the best name for the cookie would get to eat it.”
“Who resolved it?”
“I did, sort of. I called it ‘Mister Cookie Face.’ ” He laughs out loud, while I continue. “You had to pull the cookie—which you’d already put in your mouth—back on my plate in defeat.” He laughs really hard at that, and the laughter is what wakes me up.
It’s worth noting that there really is—or was—a cookie called Mister Cookie Face. Stupid name for what is—or was—a really delicious concoction; an ice cream sandwich made from chocolate chip cookies. I haven’t had one in about twenty years. The cookie in my dream bore no resemblance whatsoever to the real MCF, and was merely a smallish lump of chocolate, more like a truffle than anything else.
There you go. Mister Cookie Face. I think we’ve all learned something very valuable here today.