The Drought

In the dream it is dark and there is snow on the ground. People are foraging on the pitted asphalt of a grocery store parking lot for broken gourds and pumpkins that have been tossed out the front door. They talk of soup, of breads, of the meals that will keep them going until the spring. But I walk by them and into the store. It is cold and quiet and composed of concrete and steel, not a very inviting place. Clerks who are stocking the shelves do not make eye contact with the customers, just keep stacking the prepackaged meals and shrink-wrapped snacks in bins and on racks. I have a cart and I am waiting for my love to appear on a break. When he does, we start looking for foods but cannot find any staple ingredients. The only thing the store sells is ready-to-eat food like Army rations. I think that I can go outside and gather some of the gourds like the foragers but when I get outside, there is no food left on the ground. I try to get to the parking lot and I get lost on cul-de-sac roads and traffic circles. I am in a hurry because he has to get back to work. It is my fault he will be late. I feel guilty. I feel inadequate that I cannot provide food. And then, he is gone from the store and I am standing alone in front of an overfilled cart of food with no appetite, starving for nutrients and knowing everything I am going to buy is expensive and empty. It is a vast feeling of despair.