Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?

It's suppertime.
Yeah, it's suppertime.
Oh, it's sup-sup suppertime very best time of day.

It's suppertime.
Yeah, it's sup-per time.
And when suppertime comes can supper be far away?

Bring on the soup dish, bring on the cup,
Bring on the bacon and fill me up.
'Cause it's supper
Supper, supper, suppertime.

I think I've said it before -- I like to entertain.

When I lived in Ohio, I had some sort of themed party every few months.  I had a nice core group of friends who would come to my parties and every now and then I'd mix it up by introducing some new friends.  At one point, there were 4 or 5 of us who took turns hosting parties at each others' places.  

I fancied myself a Martha Stewart wannabe.  Invitations were sent.  Decorations were purchased.  Menu was planned well in advance.  I even had some sort of ice breaker or party game to help loosen things up.  Channeling my inner DJ, I'd even create a CD (or, gasp, cassette) of appropriate music for the various occasions.  

I've looked at the photos recently and miss those days.

It's probably no wonder then that I've been having dreams recently about throwing a dinner party.

In my dream, there are three people from my current job invited.  At first, I didn't understand the logic of the three people I invited because a couple are relatively new friends but then I realized the connecting factor is that all three are people who like to cook and with whom I've had conversations about recipes in the past.  The rest of the guest list consists of 4 of my oldest (in length of time known, not by age) good friends.  

In my dream, everyone is in my living room (you can see a really old video of my living room that I made for my mom when I first moved into my apartment May 2008) sitting around talking.  My older friends are entertaining my newer friends with stories about me, how they met me, and things we've done and said and vice versa.  

I bring out trays of food and place them on the coffee table and then on a white farmer's style dining room table (which I don't own) and then on the breakfast bar/counter area in my kitchen. Everyone fills up a plate and returns to their seats.  I stand back and observe everyone and then, without saying a word to anyone, I go into my bedroom, pull back the covers on my bed and crawl in, fully dressed, and pull the covers up over my head.

At this point, the dream gets a little weird.  Now, I'm like some sort of ghost or something watching everything.  I can see myself lying on my side in bed.  I can see everyone talking and eating in the living room, totally functioning and having fun without me.  Then, I can see into my spare bedroom.

In my spare bedroom, which is set up as a home office, home library and Abby's playroom, there is this guy from the TV reality show Storage Wars sitting in a large recliner, in front of large flat-screen tv, playing some sort of video game.  This guy is totally obnoxious on the show. He likes to drive up the bidding and has this annoying "Yep" thing that he does when he bids.

My mom now arrives out of nowhere and goes into the spare bedroom and tells Dave (the guy from the reality show) that he needs to go out and join the rest of the party.  He cusses her out and continues to play video games.

Then, I wake up.

The first morning, I woke up craving pancakes.

I had the dream again Friday night and Saturday night.  Each morning, I woke up craving different breakfast foods.

Yesterday (Sunday) afternoon, I had a really bad headache and took a nap and had the same dream during my nap.  When I woke up, I wasn't craving anything but I felt like I should make some sort of breakfast food anyway.

I think my subconscious is trying to tell me it's time to have parties again.

I wish I knew why I felt the need to just leave the party, though, and why no one seemed to notice that I left.  Is it because I was exhausted from all of the work?  Was I upset about something?  Was the party so well-organized that I wasn't needed anymore?

When I re-hash the dream, I get a "Sixth Sense" kind of feeling.  At no point does anyone really talk to me or interact with me.   What if I was dead and this dream was my wake or something? I think Dave may represent my dad, who always seemed to be in a recliner when I was growing up, distant and away from the things going on around.

Very strange.

I didn't have the dream last night, though, which is a good start. 

It's never boring in my head.