The lesser-known hazards of McDonald’s

I haven’t had any cool dreams since abandoning my PRN sleep medication (I’m almost tempted to take it every night even when I know I won’t need it just for the cortical audiovisual effects). Last night I had an interesting one.

I was in a McDonald’s with my girlfriend and a mutual friend who, I knew, was interested in her. This was in the morning. I think all three of us were staying in a hotel across the street, in separate rooms. There was a fourth person, another male, who was supposed to show up at the restaurant at some point, but the three of us believed (and don’t ask me how I knew what my two companions were thinking, since we didn’t discuss the issue out loud, but I did) that there was tension between my girlfriend and this guy for some reason, maybe because they’d had some kind of fling or near-fling before she and I got together.

So I was sitting at a table drinking coffee while the other two sat there and jabbered. The guy was all but leering at her — his expression reminded me of that of Chet in Weird Science as he described serving a pork sandwich in a dirty ashtray in an effort to make his hung-over brother puke, I remember this clearly — but for whatever reason I wasn’t concerned, possibly because in dreams with sexual overtones I typically wind up copulating with a complete stranger, someone I haven’t seen since high school and never talked to, etc. My girlfriend seemed to be vaguely interested in what he was saying at best. Then the other guy showed up and went up to the counter to order instead of joining us at our table. My girlfriend jumped up, threaded her way through other customers waiting in line, and began making out enthusiastically with the guy and running her hands all over his ass. The people around them seemed not to notice and the counter girl kept asking him for his order in a bored monotone while the two of them practically screwed each other with their clothes on. The guy across the table from me and I exchanged quizzical and perhaps disconcerted looks. I asked him, “What did you expect?” He answered, “She’s always thought with her dick anyway.” I nodded, then woke up.

I almost never go to McDonald’s but just yesterday spent a few hours in the one nearest me surfing its Wi-Fi, so that explains the dream’s setting. As for the rest of it, I have my theories, but I’m not touching them. The other players are all real-life entities from various chapters of my life, and it was interesting to see them interact, however fictionally.

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