It's scary, the way advertising infiltrates the unconscious. I dreamed I was at Starbucks, trying to order a coffee. Just a coffee. The barista kept trying to upsell me: "Get a vanilla latte, get a macchiato." Even in my dream, all I could think of were the dollar signs.
As those dollar signs danced through my head, I remember thinking, "Wait a minute... aren't specialty coffees on sale for $1 at Tim Hortons?" (I swear I saw a commercial about this--and on a Canadian network, too. Didn't I?)
But whatevs. I was at Starbucks and I needed a coffee, so I ordered a coffee. Done.
Well, not totally. Because I headed out onto Yonge Street and what did I see? The nearest intersection was blocked by a gigantic trampoline, and Ronald McDonald was jumping up and down on it, soaring into the sky. It was sadly glorious.
As I turned for the subway entrance, I dropped something I was carrying (can't remember what--maybe a book?) and it slipped beside and under the big trampoline. Luckily, Ronald McDonald was willing to fetch it for me. That's when it hit me: "Awww crap! I just paid for this coffee at Starbucks when McDonalds is giving coffee away for free all week."
Yeah.
And this wasn't even an on-the-couch-in-front-of-the-TV dream. It was a bed dream. It sort of freaks me out that the TV commercials I'd seen the previous day had wormed their ways so deep down inside.
Or am I just so cheap that my unconscious feels the need to keep track of current sale prices, particularly when it comes to the one substance I freely admit an addiction to?
Good thing I'm not afraid of clowns.
Hugs,
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