It’s very unusual for me to remember my dreams, or even that I had dreams at all, which is partly why I feel the need to share this one.
I wander into a hotel that happens to be hosting a Science Fiction convention. Signage identifies it as Philcon (where I’ve never been but hear good things) and the colour scheme of the walls, carpet, and furniture is a variety of dark reds.
It’s very early in the con and many things are still being set up, but there are people lining up for panels and a large amphitheatre type room starting to fill for a special presentation of some kind. As I wander down one aisle, I come across a booth labelled Silver Surfer Pickles, where Stan Lee is sitting having lunch by himself. No one seems to have noticed. There are also no pickles present.
But since it’s Stan Lee, and he’s by himself, I walk up to the booth and say hello. He’s quite friendly and we spend several minutes talking until I look down at his lunch to see that it consists entirely of sliced red pickles.
Of course I asked, and Mr. Lee explained that these were from an earlier trial batch. They tasted great, but came out the wrong colour. The process is down now and the silver ones would be arriving at any moment. Either way, I thought they were an interesting idea and mentioned that my wife (who has a fondness for all kinds of pickled things) would probably love them.
He suspiciously looked around then hunched over an empty jar with a black marker. When he straightened up again, he’d signed (and personalized) the label, slipping it into a small box which he then pressed it into my hands. A forklift came stuttering down the aisle with a skid of shrink wrapped pickle jars and Mr. Lee told me to make sure I came back to try the real thing.
We shook hands and I wandered off down the aisle to the sound of breaking glass, clutching my treasure.
Strange that I woke up just then. I wonder what I planned to do with the jar.by