At around two in the morning I suddenly woke up from an odd dream. I do not recall much of it, but one thing did stick fast between those fleeting moments bridging the unconscious and conscious worlds. Seven words that, when taken together, do not mean much…
A box of Twinkies would do nicely.
…but were so vivid, as if casually spoken as an afterthought, but given in answer to a very seriously important question.
While I cannot be ultimately certain as to what that question was, at least this one popped immediately into my head as I lay there with eyes wide open: “What is your dying wish?”
So there I lay in the dark, pondering the answer to a question few of us spend much time pondering for fairly obvious reasons. Why I would have answered it with a box of Twinkies I am not sure; but then again, given life’s enumerable physical and mental strictures, why not? I like Twinkies. They taste devilishly sweet and are not all that good for you, which makes them even more desirable. But that is me. How about you?
What is your dying wish?
I don’t know… so much to choose from! How about a slice of meat pizza with extra cheese!
Make that a whole pie and I’d say certainly!