I dream my parents invite me to a picnic. They say "don't worry, we'll bring food." Fine with me; they have money, I don't.

Meet them for the picnic. Well, non-picnic! There's nothing to eat but plastic cheese & bitter, sprayed, non-organic grapes--scab grapes (non-union) too. A shock since they're liberal activists honoring Cesar Chavez's grape boycott.

I'll get sick if I eat this stuff! And then my parents will sweetly explain it's all in my head.

Surprise! A farewell party for Carol, our department head. This is a library--80% women. So parties here are often elaborate potlucks, with women showing off recipes. A little gentle competition, but also a way to show appreciation. Except today! The only food is...

... slices of plastic cheese and bitter, sprayed, non-organic grapes.

I don't much like Carol, but I thought it was just me. Wrong! Looks like nearly everyone's thinking "Goodbye & good riddance!"

I ate a little, rationalizing "It's polite, and if I drink lots of water to dilute it, I won't get sick."

NEXT DAY

Sick as a dog--of course. Why do my dreams even bother?

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