because Frank said so

As a general rule, I don't remember my dreams. Never have. I count this as a blessing, considering that the ones I do remember have a tendency to be a) weird and b) oddly prophetic. So now I'm leery about last night's dream . . .

In my dream, Frank Rich (yes, the NYTimes columnist) and I decide to go grab a bite for breakfast before I get my hair cut and have lunch with DesMama and Nemesis. According to my dream, this is perfectly normal because Frank and I are, apparently, BFF. Go figure.

Frank and I decide to go to a Chinese bakery. But the bakery is closed. Because they keep Beijing hours. And by Beijing hours, I mean that they are fourteen hours ahead of us. Frank's solution is to walk around to the back of the bakery, walk in the back door, and take the pastries we want from the racks in the loading dock. We then sit on the loading dock and eat the pastries. Oh, and he proceeds to tell me who it is I am supposed to date.

I find this dream troubling on a number of levels. The first being the fact that DesMama, Nemesis, and I had intended to go to the British Pantry Tea Shop for lunch today. (I know it's not Chinese, but the British did have this empire thing going for some time, wherein they did own a little bit of China.) Despite the clearly posted hours on their website, they were not serving lunch today. Now, I was tempted to suggest we go around back and just take whatever we felt like eating, but I refrained since I just wasn't sure that was something DesMama wanted to do with DesTot in tow. And it might have been a bit awkward while carrying TinyDes. (Though it was quite fun to walk through the store a.k.a. Pantry and relish in all things British, especially the Lamb and Mint chips. Or should I call them crisps?)

I'm not sure if I should be troubled or not by who it is Frank thinks I should date. I mean, I've seen his profile online, and his physical description seems quite appealing. But this says nothing for personality. And I don't think I'm in a position to begin dating yet, but still . . .

I guess I'm just troubled in this regard because I can't help but question the wisdom of listening to a man who is perfectly at east stealing pastries from Chinese bakeries with absurd hours.