Milkshake

I do not always remember dreams particularly well.  I think my best ability to remember dreams is when they occur or are occurring close to when I wake up.  Well, last night (this morning?) I had a rather short, but vivid dream.  In my dream, I was perhaps in my 30s, at least it seemed so given the age of my kids.  My wife was in her 30s as well,  but it was in a time period that felt more like the 1950s or early 1960s.  It felt we were living in a large, urban city.  I was me of course, but I was not a college professor.  Instead, I had two jobs. 

In one job, I ran an ice cream shop that sold all the various delights that those places have, but I caused some sort of stir in our local neighborhood by first making for myself and then as people saw what I made, it because a staple on the menu... of a triple malted, dark chocolate milkshake.  I basically drank them all day when I was working there and they were rich, creamy, and so delightfully malty that they eventually became the signature item on the menu.  In real life, I have never held such a job. 

In the other job, I worked at the neighborhood movie theater, working in the projector room, spooling reels of all sorts of wonderful films.  Now, this is a job I did hold for about a year while I was in graduate school in a small town about 25 minutes outside of the campus itself.  It was a wonderful job that I remember fondly.  Not only did I get to see movies for free, and had my fill of free pop corn and beverages... the job gave me a way to be OUTSIDE of academia for a bit 2-3 times a week.  It felt enriching to me to give me that relief. 

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