Fat Sandwich Dreaming

Peace Corps / Monday, October 10th, 2011

About two months ago I had a nightmare which involved a god-awfully delicious/deadly sandwich dream at Fat Sandwich. I resolved to get one while I was back in America to satisfy my hunger. I failed to do this due to a lack of time in my schedule. Today, I see the folly in my ways. Let me explain.

While I’m not completely sure what prompts me to have dreams about sandwiches which will kill me only through heart failure; I’m even less sure why they always seem to be nightmares. The sandwich I always order from Fat Sandwich, the Fat Magnum, is deliciously unhealthy. It makes me happy to eat it. But in my dreams, I never get to eat one of the sandwiches for various reasons. This is where a good, fat kid’s dream becomes a nightmare which causes me to wake in a panic.

My first dream involved me searching the newly updated menu, written all over the walls of the restaurant, for what seemed to be hours on end. I couldn’t find the Magnum I held so dearly to my heart. It was frustrating and suffocating. I didn’t know what to order. My mind eventually resolved to order something else off the menu in the hopes I’d enjoy it all the same.

I couldn’t enjoy my purchase, however. My mind was set to, but when I sat down to eat it, the manager sat down next to me. Then he did something which not only makes me cringe in my dreams but I would go even farther beyond cringing if it happened in real life. He started eating my food. I was unable to say anything to him and he therefore wouldn’t stop. That’s where my nightmare ended.

Last night, I had a second Fat Sandwich dream. I was in a new location (it appeared to be located in Ukraine for reasons I’ll explain). This time around I saw the classic menu in front of me and I knew exactly what I would order. And then I waited in line. This is where I first realized that I was in a Fat Sandwich restaurant located in Ukraine. I never moved in line because people kept butting in front of me. It angered me.

Somehow, I managed to get to the front of the line and I placed my order. Then I went to sit with my friends while the masterpiece was created. However, I waited and waited and waited again. I waited so long I had to say something. I pushed my way to the front of the line and I requested that my sandwich be remade. The woman at the counter said she’d go make it but I watched as she left the kitchen.

This is where the dream got scary. I became the monster. I started yelling every obscenity in the book at the manager. I was pounding on the counter and knocking the tip jar on the ground. The manager came over and told me they would make the sandwich. Then he went back to work without making me a sandwich. I came full force with the obscenities once more.

That’s about the time I woke up.

What is it about these sandwiches that has me craving them ever so strongly? What is it about my subconscious that keeps me from ever eating one of the delicious creations? Will this madness ever end?

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