I had a strange and intriguing dream last night. Since this is my blog and I divulge all sorts of random crap on it, I shall now tell you of my dream!

Okay. So in my dream I’m at work as normal, doing my normal, boring routine. Then I look up at the front and see Shannyn standing there. I go over there and talk to her for a little while. She’s looking for a job, so I suggest to her to work with us. She doesn’t say anything and leaves. I go about my daily business, including dealing with this one jerk that doesn’t seem to know how to give me the correct change.

Later in the day I’m training a new girl, and it takes me a little while to realize it’s Shannyn. I’m happy that she’s working with me, so I’m trying to train her on the fry machine because it was my favorite thing to do and I was hoping it would be fun for her, too.

Somehow, after awhile, the back of the store is transformed into this huge metal room with a bunch of flaming pits and huge groups of people standing around. I go up to this one guy who’s got a bunch of these little dolls in a pile around him. He looks at me and says, “quick! Choose a doll!” I don’t have much time to look through them so I pick the first one I recognize—a doll resembling Jean-Paul Sartre. So I grab it just as I hear a familiar voice behind me say, “I’ll take the Nietzsche doll.” I turn around and see Maggie getting her doll. I was pissed that she was able to find Nietzsche.

But it is evident later that I am rather attached to my little Sartre doll, because after awhile we are all lined up with our dolls getting ready to do something—I’m not sure what—with the dolls. I notice a few people ahead of me in the line are throwing their dolls into this big incinerator. I start screaming and crying when I see this, clinging all the while to my little miniature Sartre, not wanting to throw him into the incinerator because I’ve become very attached to him. The people in charge of all this didn’t quite know what to do with me.

Hm. I wonder what this means.

I know this much, though…

…I freaking want a Sartre doll.