Dreams are creepy. Last week, a dream I had brought that home to me again. I’ve been realizing that sleep truly is a time when your mind guddles about in a subconcious that knows a lot more than your conscious mind is aware of.
In my dream, I was talking about one of my favorite Thai dishes, green papaya salad. My former 11th grade teacher, Mrs. Price, was randomly there, and she explained that she had tried that up in L.A., but there they called it "patina."
That dream conversation hadn’t faded when I woke up, and I wondered what "patina" meant. Huh. Wouldn’t it be uncanny if patina meant "a mixture"?
Patina means a sheen or a gloss. It didn’t fit the context of the dream conversation. Yet patina is not a word I say, write, or even think of. What else does my mind know that I don’t know? This is the idea that I find unsettling.
Mrs. Price, did you try green papaya salad--in L.A.? Now that would be creepy.
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