Nov. 20, 2012
I remember that my dreams were very complex and long, as most dreams of mine are, but I really only remember one specific scene. I was at Fifth Ave, behind the counter even though I no longer work there, and I was helping out the staff because either they were understaffed or I was doing it for the good ‘ole times. Anyway, someone ordered a “frosted ice cream cone”, which I had no idea what that was or how to get it, so I watched as two of the staff pulled out an oversized ice cream cone — one that was probably waist-high — and began filling the bottom, not the top, with ice cream. Once that was packed in a little, they proceeded to fill in the top, like a regular ice cream cone, and then, tah-dah! There was that humongous treat, in all its diabetic-glory. Oh, and the cone was “frosted” because the top of the cone was dipped in chocolate (like the ones at the Marble Slab), and it was coated in what looked like sprinkles. I said I wanted to have some sprinkles, so they scraped a big streak and all the candy rattled around on the counter and on the floor. I picked up a yellow piece and chewed it. It tasted like banana. That was when I realized they were not sprinkles after all, but some sort of Runts. How disappointing.
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