Waking Finnegan

“We are such stuff as dreams are made of, and our whole life is rounded with a sleep” ~ Shakespeare

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Location: zurich, Switzerland

Thursday, September 22, 2005

Cheeseburger Dream


A long battery of fry cook griddles are aligned inside the stainless steel rebar cage. Flash-frozen boxes of ball park cargo labeled "Full-o-franks" "Boigies" and "Fries" are being elevated to our work floor on a clackity dumbwaiter hitched to cords of hemp. A cling-a-ling bell goes off, sounding like "dinner time!" and "back to work!" The platform stops, quickly jerks off the goods, finds its alignment again, and then is swiftly pulled upward to the opening in the floor above.

I get on my knees and stick my head past the floor opening and dangling ropes to have a look. I can see more platforms hoisting multiple rows of the same vapory cargo---those descending going down slowly, smoothly---the rising ones more in subtle fits and starts. Is this a relief station---are we a cook-crew for hurricane victims? I can see into an adjacent storage facility---a polar-cold warehouse staffed with refrigerated workers who are busy loading up the big dumbwaiters...more ropes....more flats on frozen boxes full of eats. There's a "foreman" tugging at the hawsers to signal another jacking. He turns to motion in my direction...is he waving at me?

I know I should be in charge of some station, but I haven't got an inkling---all the maneuvering---where do I fit in? Feeling like I'm squandering something, I watch as wax papered patties and frozen weenies are getting slapped down, peeled and rolled into alignment by my "sous chef" son. He's wearing a baseball cap and apron combo which both have the same looping, cursive "Pit Stop" logo embroidered into happy faces with lumpy burgers for eyes. My own sad apron has got a coating of polymerized fond glazed over the upside-down and backward logo. While I'm trying to pick out the sticky bits from the apron strings, I suddenly see the many customers lined up in multiple rows on the other side of the cage, pressing jailbird faces and yowling "Hey, there's a goddamned ball game going on so hurry it up!" More workers have appeared (thankfully) and Ty is now doing all the griddle piloting (without a worry in the world!) "Doublecheese! "Extra fries...order of nachos...three vanilla shakes!" As the orders are shuffled, he twists around a cooker dial and (whoosh) up slides his service door. He looks over at me with a benevolent shrug that suggests he needs me. But I can't stop toying with the tacky apron strings. He chortles "Don't worry---the cage is plenty sturdy; they can't get in, because I did all the welding myself." I'm nodding in agreement and wondering what the hell is wrong with me.

40 Comments:

Blogger Zataod said...

I should follow my own advice and never read a dream while hungry. Now I'm hungrier than before, and I need to round up a snack badly. I'm a sucker for any kind of fast food.

1:01 AM  
Blogger transience said...

mmmm. this may be your yummiest dream ever. there's something wonderfully decadent about fastfood.

2:57 AM  
Blogger karma said...

*slurp*

3:32 AM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Zataod
Yeah, this was "fast food" in the literal sense.
But what I dreamed was an omen. Fast food Inc. is hard at work transforming everything we see into "finger food". Read below my message to Trans and get the word out. They are here!

transience
Fast food will one day rule the planet. Ronald MacDonald (alias "Big Mac") has Big Plans. His shit eating grin is actually a highly sophisticated visual mechanism designed to lull unsuspecting mobile snackers into a "gut-level" sense of well-being and security. These snacking saps subtly believe that this clown, this benevolent bozo is here to protect their face-stuffing families from the terrorists.

But the ersatz prankster has different designs for these unsuspecting auto-matons. Beware MacDonald's upcoming "Happy Recycler Campaign". The green- faced composting loony is actually the cloned twin of Ronald who dines on spare tires liposucked from all the super-sized victims. This recycling campaign will appear to be a sound, ecologically benevolent gesture to "clean things up". But in reality, our two-faced wisecrackers have re-invested vast sums in what has been code-named: "Soylent Green 2"

Karma
Stop slurping your shake and pull out the bull-horn! Apprise all gullible ones! There's not a moment to lose.

The Code word for one of the secret ingredients in this finger food: uoxonxae

8:00 AM  
Blogger feminine expressions said...

would that i were a jung analyst--i would be able to see into your soul. as it is i can only see how incredibly creative you and your life are...

11:20 AM  
Blogger finnegan said...

F.E.
I dumped Jung and Freud in favor of my two Brit head-shrinkers (Cocaine Jesus and Perfect Virgo) who have revitalized an ancient Celtic method of psychoanalysis known as "head-banging".

12:34 PM  
Blogger Pincushion said...

NOw look at what you've done! My stomach's a-growling and louuuudly too, in a most unlady-like way!
but hey..methinks u DO hunger for somethin, beats me what tho'*grins* !

1:00 PM  
Blogger Pincushion said...

PS: GUESS WHAT?! my post is about fooood too! now is that telepathy, or wot?!

1:02 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

pincushion A
Growling from the belly. I used to imagine it was a tiger waiting impatiently for a rare steak.

pincushion B
Heading over to nibble on the goodies.

2:22 PM  
Blogger Sara said...

What a thick world of dream. To be immersed in, and cooking, greasy foods and the anxiety of apron-stick--I feel like I need a shower and a nap.

And this--"I'm nodding in agreement and wondering what the hell is wrong with me."--concisely sums up many a situation for me.

2:46 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Sara
"I'm nodding in agreement and wondering what the hell is wrong with me."--concisely sums up many a situation for me.

Why are we so often inept in dreams? I have yet to land a punch squarely on the face of a mortal enemy. Things are often more haywire than our klutziest waking moments. The way dreams really play out is sometimes disconcerting enough to make me wonder about my sanity.

4:11 PM  
Blogger _Soulless_ said...

wax papered patties

I just had to pause and reread that phrase... because I read it as "wax papered panties."

*clears throat*

I should have my eyes checked.

Darn, imagine me reading "wax papered panties and frozen weenies are getting slapped down, peeled and rolled..."

*clears throat again*

Food. Yes. I have to remind myself that this dream is about food. *chuckles*

5:29 PM  
Blogger floots said...

about food eh
the platform stops, quickly jerks off ....
the foreman tugging on his hawser
another jacking
did you toss this one off quickly
then there's soulless and those paper panties
(i'd like to say more but there's something i gotta go do)

5:45 PM  
Blogger Sara said...

I too have yet to land a single dream-punch. My arm goes limp upon forward movement. However, one dream gave my leg the strength to kick a man square in the belly when he tried to sneak up and hurt my friend. I've wondered why I found success in foot but not in wrist. Or maybe it hinged on the situation itself.

5:48 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Soulless
Hardee Har har. Now look what you've done to poor Floots. He's run off into the shrubbery. Just hope it isn't the gorse.

And you know you are baiting Cocaine I'm sure. He lives the "vigourous" life merely indulge in such tasty finger foods like slap-happy frozen weenies rolled in wax-papered panties. Personally, the pointy-breasted bucket o'cluck gets cock-a-doodling. But be forewarned; I do not go lightly with the mayo-squirter.

And then there's Virgo; birthday-suited, still in the middle of celebrating his birthday with a dervish table dance; dangerously close to poking someone's eye out.

Ruksak is likely to enter here at any moment, let go a rip-snorting Bronx Cheer to clear the aisles.

And Soulless why do you keep clearing your throat?


Floots
Hboo-hoo-hee-haa-har-har. You've got banging syntax, Floots.
And yes, I tossed this one off while making the classic honeymoon salad known as: "lettuce alone without dressing".

Sara
Floots' wrist is limp too. I think he's ready to take his medicine.

6:47 PM  
Blogger Grace said...

Oh no, I've been on a fat free diet for the last month and now you make me want burger and fries!

12:04 PM  
Anonymous rusty said...

Are you on a diet or something ? The only food fantasies I have are directly telecast from my stomach..( empty stomach...I mean ).Otherwise there is a regular 'House full ' board outside my Dreams..!!

3:30 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Grace
This definitely not fat free. It's free fat.

Rusty
I don't do diets. I figure I'll be able to diet plenty when I'm dead---when I go "belly up".

When I awoke, I was as ravenous as a bulimic boa constrictor after a high colonic.

Here's a verification word which might suggest an interesting meal tonight = FSHHZ = Fish hearts

3:40 PM  
Blogger Grafxgurl said...

hey ...i like this post!!

i liek this dream i shoud say..


but will you finally get out!?!


sigh...i also see you took off my banner.. oh welll. :)

6:24 PM  
Blogger Perfect Virgo said...

I just slipped out of my birthday suit and into something a little more comfy! Your nocturnal meanderings have a nightmarish quality to them this time Finn. I was immediately struck by the thought "Metropolis."

Too much to do and angry, impatient customers. Thank heaven you had Ty to help and all his youthful vigour. You were not in control of this at all my friend, a helpless spectator. Floods and hurricanes have been occupying your mind I think.

9:26 PM  
Blogger RuKsaK said...

No sense goes unturned in your posts and I like that. As you so rightly point out, even a perfectly tuned spoon on a tea cup is part of the key to tasty food and so on and so forth. I wonder how things taste to the blind, deaf and dumb.

5:57 AM  
Blogger Alice: In Wonderland or Not said...

You succeed if you make that food sound good to me, as you did. Must have been the presentation.

I dream only of sushi.

6:06 AM  
Blogger finnegan said...

grafx
Fret not about the banner. I stripped the motors out of the animated gifs because I felt the jump-roping ones were making things a bit uneven.

As you might have noticed, I've remade a few banners and will keep dinking with the others. If you're not happy with my having pulled out the last gif, I'd be more than happy if you could fashion something more to your liking! ;-)

Perfect Virgo
As usual, your perceptive peepers pick up the visual scent of my night tracks.
The connection with Fritz Lang' silent epic (especially the wide angle distancing) is one of my favorites.

In addition to Ty, I do have to include a certain young man who is managing a bar north of your latitude. I'm sure all these flash scenes have managed to coalesce.

And naturally, those hurricanes portend a literal "sea change".

RuKsAk
It is a fascinating question about the sensory abilities of blind, deaf and dumb people. Two blocks from my place is a restaurant which partly addresses your question quite literally. Check this out: http://gridskipper.com/travel/zurich/
the-blind-cow-117578.php

Alice
Following Ruksak's thread here---sushi is something you won't have a problem with in the dark, unless it's made in the dark. I would say to anyone who feels that life is boring to try eating fugu prepared by a blind sushi chef.

One obvious reason why they named it "fugu": "One false move and you're fugged.


VERIFICATION WORD: LIZGA
Better known as "The world's greatest blind sushi chef".

12:26 PM  
Blogger . : A : . said...

Sometimes in dreams also we wander, wondering where we fit in.

1:08 PM  
Blogger RuKsaK said...

The Blind Cow restaurant sounds insane enough to work perfectly.
PS - I've promoted you on my page a wee bit.

4:08 PM  
Blogger Perfect Virgo said...

You and me are in Ruk's hall of fame with fancy buttons!! (Cheers Ruk!)

Thanks for the sideways reference to offspringly efforts Finn! The vim and vigour of youthful sinew is enough to make an old man weep.

Filmsome thoughts are uppermost as I unwrap my "Short Cuts" for soonish viewing. How did I know you would be an aficionado of the Lang classic? Call it impish guesswork if you like but I know how your dreaming mind operates. You are the projectionist who loads reels weekly for our delectation. Cinematic themes run through the narratives of your somnolent musings and the intensity of this one was high.

8:32 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

.:a:.
Always in dreams I wander. I always wonder where I fit in.

RuKsaK
I'd love to eat there in the dark, but I need a reservation a couple of months in
advance. I can't even plan a week ahead.

Thanks for the nice chunk of screen real estate.

9:46 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Virgo
I can see you are in flying spirits, P.V.! Cashed in a "road bond" I presume.

Well, mine has got vigourous sinew, but not 6'3" of it! Mine is more of a "Short Cut"---not a "Lang" classic. I'm not that capable a projectionist, but I do love reel-loading.

I was born in a Hollywood Studio dumpster on a bed of discarded short cuts from "B" movies. Mine are "B" dreams.

I love the way RukSaK seated us in his class. You can pass crib notes to me while he's busy drawing tongue-and-cheek diagrams on the blackboard, scattering dust all over our Class of '05.

VW = PVWQT = Perfect Virgo Wants Quiet Tomorrow

7:49 AM  
Anonymous Renata said...

So this is your blog! I'm impressed with your commenters as much as I am with your unique writing, Finnegan!
I know a few folks who would love this. Ta!

1:36 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

Renata
I thought you might find it curious. But please don't start calling me Finnegan in person.

VW= BAOXXRZ What you do in front of the Emperor while wearing briefs.

3:39 PM  
Blogger Potted-flower said...

TOAST!

Are you taking orders, or...

6:13 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

potted flower
Chee-boigy Chee-boigy no Coke only Pepsi.

VW= QIDAT Enough!

9:53 PM  
Blogger Extempore said...

Am not quite sure what to make of this one yet. I must admit to identifying completely with the wandering confusion. My dreams - whenever I do remember them - are usually of me wandering all over the countryside.

I should warn you, I tagged you for a meme. Check it out! :)

10:45 PM  
Blogger Queen Neetee said...

Oooo finn, this is some scary stuff! A dream like this turns on a night light to a fine greasy spray that leaps like hot pinpoint advertisements and sticks to hand fed wants and gullibilities of the masses. The delicious scents waft as quickly as the artificially colored lumps of flesh sizzle on the grill. There's never enough of the crunchy confusion to go around, is there?

I think I'll take up periodic fasting again and entertain myself by reading food labels.

Your dream-talk is incredible!

8:39 AM  
Blogger finnegan said...

extempore Cool, I've got a bunch of dream chunks I'm going to pore over to see what I can meme up in 55 words. As 5 is my favorite number, 55 should be double the fun.

queen neetee
Yes, the faster the food the greasier the spoon. Go to thy fast...fast!

Thanks for your deep-fried thoughts.

3:49 PM  
Blogger Cocaine Jesus said...

thats the problem with you lot.
CHIPS.
CHIPS.
french fries?
chips mate with ketchup or mayo that is the only way. as for macfuckin'donalds . . .
nuke the bastards!!

as my WV says (and who can argue with that?) HDQFHWI

1:17 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

C.J.
Trouble with you lot is that you blow too much gas trying to heat the vats for your motor oil "chips". I've eaten them, and couldn't stop my stomach glupping for a week. I've had better buffalo chips. The mayo may as well have been Preparation H.

I'm sure the French are cowering in culinary fear. You lot can call them "chips" or whatever floats your boat. It's not even fit for hyenas, who even love eating their young as a side dish for their own shit. The origins of the term: "shit-eating grin" is based on what a Brit looks like as he's downing a batch of those BP chips. Oh yes, the Brits are world-renowned for their culinary superiority---Haggis being their crowning Neanderthal-cookery achievement.

The Belgians can gloat about the modern version of the potato speciality:
http://www.belgianfries.com/

The McDonald Clan originally hails from (trumpets, ladies and gents!!) The British Isles: http://truedemocracy.net/td2_4/05b-mcdonald.html

I love you more than ever Cocaine. Please come back and abuse me with one of your poems. And don't forget to bring some "Peruvian" potatoes if it's not too much trouble.

Kisskiss

VW = DJDNP
Did you nap?

11:32 PM  
Blogger Dr. Charles said...

they say good writers involve all 5 senses... i think the fast food brings to mind at least 4, and the hemp ropes create a jungle vine picture in my head. lots of synaesthesia in your writing. do you ever experience that?

6:59 PM  
Blogger finnegan said...

I have experienced synaethesia only while under the influence of peyote and mescaline. That was long ago.

Your question brought back memories of Alexander Scriabin. It was the first time I'd heard of of the term "synaestheisia".

11:34 PM  
Anonymous bonglong said...

synaesthesia? hmm. i'm heading to the dictionary to find out what you and dr. charles are talking about.

11:36 PM  

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