The Gay Agenda is back to raise morale during the COVID-19 Pandemic. Have a dream you want me to interpret, with my very specific spin? Send it to telpher@gmail.com, with the words "The Gay Agenda" in the subject field.

Sunday, January 31, 2016

You Like It Crunchy, Indeed


For this very special edition of The Gay Agenda, Peter Kadlec, of Montpelier, Vermont,  will serve as guest expert on the human subconscious, and interpret MY dream, for a change. It's a goody.


My dream:

Two nights ago, I dreamt I was on a date with a really beautiful woman. We were in her kitchen and I volunteered to cook dinner, instead of us going out for a meal.

In the dream, I was thinking, "This is nice. I can't remember the last time I liked a woman in this way."

And then I went to the fridge to get out ingredients for dinner.

I opened the freezer, and discovered it was full of cereal boxes. Corn Flakes, to be exact.

Boxes and boxes of corn flakes - just filling the entire freezer so that, when I opened the door, it was a wall of cereal boxes.  I asked the beautiful woman, "Why is your freezer full of cereal??."

She looked at me as if I were crazy, and answered, "Because I like my corn flakes crunchy, silly."

And then, in the dream, I thought to myself, "Oh, yeah, that's right. I ONLY ever like crazy women who do irrational things."

And then I woke up.



Peter's Interpretation

Sister, please. A woman you deeply crave is showing you a closeted deep-freeze full of Corn Flakes, each box of which prominently displays a strutting, crowing cock.

That crowing signals time to wake up and let this cereal out. Your superego's reaction is one of disappointment in the irrationality of this bland, banal, and nutritionally bankrupt lifestyle. However, a little exploration will reveal something that the majority of us already know: the sublime pleasure of stuffing down three or four bowls in one sitting. Admit it: you, too, like it crunchy.

This dream is about your recent genealogical investigation and the unseen family history on your father's side that you are unconsciously avoiding. That's right: you are a Protestant. Only WASPs would be stupid enough to store cereal in a freezer. Put down your cafe con leche and mofongo, and find yourself a nice corn-fed Midwestern girl who knows her way around a tuna casserole and a tin of Campbell's mushroom soup.

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