Fruit. A fruit race. I don’t think I’ve had a stranger dream, or perhaps a more vivid one, than dreaming of about five girls (but no one I know in reality), and me, dressing up as fruit–and a radish (which I was wearing, though it somehow counted as a fruit in my dream)–then racing each other. The most vivid fruit-and-one-veggie-race costume I still have from my dream, aside from my own, is the banana. The mesh tent on her back…and it was supposed to be a pop-up tent she was wearing. The six of us were training for a race. We started on a very green, buttercup-ridden field with nothing around us but a few trees, and ran miles in bulky costumes, our arms, like little T-Rex arms, were flailing left and right, all of us serious as we ran miles all the way into a city, and then into what I can only assume was supposed to be a WinCo. We had to cut through the ribbon in order to make it past double swinging doors inside. It was a close race. Caralin or Corrine or Caroline (whatever her name was I can’t remember; but she was banana girl) won the race, with all of us ‘fruits’ cheering her on. Not a split second later came the plum then I think the orange, or perhaps it was the peach…I don’t remember the order, but it was so close we were lined up like the AT&T bars. I, the radish posing somehow as a fruit, was last to the doors. I was the only non-runner of the group, and decided I did well considering my lack of training. When the six of us entered ‘WinCo’ there was no one around except our coach who was waiting for us in the dairy aisle with a clipboard and a timer, wearing very blue and incredibly stereotypical gym-coach style short-shorts. We all cheered as we gathered around him, excited that we had finished the race and with such a small winning distance between us. He announced to us we were ready for the 38–or was it 48?–Love of Health run, and plum girl (Bea, or Becka or whatever her name was in the dream) ran and grabbed something for her feet that said ‘Foot Love’. “It may be 48 for the Love of Health, but let’s just hope the same isn’t true for the love of feet,” she said with a snicker beside me, showing me the foot care kit. My mom appeared then behind us and laughed out loud, and when we all turned she disappeared behind one of the aisles with peach’s mom, the two of them laughing quietly together by the ketchup. And then I woke up.
I went online to find an apt picture for an idea about how we looked in the dream, so now, with further ado here it is, from a scene in a movie I saw as a kid, “Confessions of Georgia Nicolson”:
Needless to say something must have been in the tea I drank last night! Perhaps a touch too much sugar? And obviously far too much fruit!