Night time food fastasies

Now, now…..before you get all jazzed up over that word ‘fantasies’, I’m talkin’ about dreams! Dreams! The kind you have at night, all jacked out on Percocet and lying in one position for a long period of time.

Recovery is going as good as expected. I am sore over the entire area between my hip bones and unable to roll over or sleep on my side. So when I lay down at night, I am basically in that postion until morning, with some turning a little from one cheek to the other; turning my leg out instead of straight and trying to shift my shoulders. It’s not bad, but I can’t wait until I can curl up on my side, draped over my body pillow, snoring like a hog in the pen. (ok, well I don’t snore that loud!) The Percocet is reserved for night time use, as it makes me quite dizzy, loopy and takes control over my tongue so I say stupid and often maudlin things. It’s best to be under it’s influence while I am dead with sleep.

The last two nights I have had vivid and strong dreams about food. I am not much of a dreamer. I find I dream more when I am troubled, stressed, anxious or worried, and when I am fine with the world, my night times are more peaceful. So now, with my body on the mend and my activities severely limited for now, I am dreaming like mad. About food. Food I can’t eat, for the most part, because I simply can’t summon up the energy to make it. One night I dreamt about Quesadillas. I make fabulous quesadillas, made even more delicious by cooking them on the grill. They are truly a taste treat to devour, and a bit time consuming to make so they are out of the question right now. I am dreaming about pizza. I am craving pizza too, might have to make a request of the hubby to toss a few Boboli crusts together to get me over this urge. The dream about pizza was a pie-eater’s delight. A long table full of every kind of imagineable pizza, from pizzeria style stand-by’s to a gourmet feasters all-out extravaganza of any ingredient ever put on a crust. And wine to boot, bottle after bottle of oakey reds, spicy shiraz and pinot noirs. I was in dream heaven, eating slice after slice and sipping down more wine than I have had in ages. Then I awoke. I wanted to cry. More because I can hardly move without pretty deep pain right away in the morning, and also because the pizza and wine was a dream; a cruel, twisted dream. I also have dreamt of banquets of food, table upon table laden with all types of foods; appetizers galore, hot foods of every kind and ethnicity, breads to drive you mad, side dishes that made you swoon, desserts for rendering one comatose. It was wonderful, overwhelming and delicious looking. It was a dream. Another cruel, twisted dream where I could smell everything as if I was hovering over it all absolutely mad with hunger. I could see the textures, the meats and vegetables, the grains in the bread and the swirls on the desserts. I could smell spice, herb and nuttiness. Maybe I am nutty.

It is said that our dreams speak of the true desires of our hearts, or our deepest fears. I am thinkin’ that these are about the former, not the latter. *deep sigh* Someday soon enough I will be able to indulge again. And I can tell you something…..it’s gonna be GOOD!