What Color is YOUR Spaghetti — Part Two

So Mr. K had put me to bed and part of my brain knew I needed to sleep. The other part of my brain wanted to remember as much as possible because I thought I just might get a blog out of it. (Here we are.)

As I lay in bed I could still see those multi-colored time lines. Now, they each seemed to represent more. Each “line” was a different reality populated with various alien species. (Too much Star Trek.) If there were different races of inhabitants it stood to reason that each one would have their own customs, their own fashions and their own food.

Maybe I was hungry because the food possibilities were now fascinating. What would each group eat? How would they cook it? And if they should have anything similar to our food, would it be the same? Now my brain wanted to know, “What color is their spaghetti?” Eureka! What an idea! My fictional science fiction book now had a title! But how could I remember it?

I dreamed I got out of bed and went sneaking to my home office. Cricket was with me and I whispered to her, “Nobody will see me. Nobody will ever know I got out of bed.” In my dream, I’m not sure my feet touched the floor. I wasn’t dizzy or anything. I snuck (that’s a Southern word for the past-tense of ‘sneak’) into my office and I dreamed I took out a purple ink pen and on a sticky note I wrote, “What color is your spaghetti?” Then I went sneaking back to bed.

Wednesday morning arrived and my world was back to normal. No large white piano. No kaleidoscope. I did remember a lot of the goofy stuff I’d seen. Then I remembered my dream about the spaghetti. I walked into my home office to look at my desk. There beside my laptop written in purple ink was the question, “What color is your spaghetti?”