dream

We were all flying to Vietnam in a giant plane. (When I say “all,” I mean it was one of those casts of thousands—everyone I worked with, used to work with, went to school with, etc. It was a huge plane—like 40 yards across.) I was there in my capacity as a college admissions officer. My boss’ daughter (who is, in real life, who is 4 years old and Vietnamese) was with us, except she was 18, white, blonde, pouty, and wearing big 80’s-style glasses. I asked her what she was going to major in at college and she sarcastically said that she would be a religion major because this would make everyone assume that her mother was incredibly good-looking.

When we got to Vietnam, we went to a big banquet. The Dalai Lama was there, sort of running around and greeting everyone, very happy, and an Indian woman in a purple sari was showing us individually how to fold our hands and be mindful before beginning our meal. The plates were black and my food was two little chunks of meat (?) and a few vegetables. It was very little food, but looking at it, I knew it would satisfy my hunger.

It was a really pleasant dream, I wish I could remember more about it.