When I reached the door, I knocked several times without answer. Eventually I just decided to enter the house. I set my big had on a chair that was near the door and began to have a look around. I looked down at my clipboard and noticed that there were certain boxes that there was a list of qualifications that the house had to fit. I must have been some sort of inspector.
After thoroughly searching the house, looking under every ledge, behind every piece of furniture, and in every closet, I stood by an enormous window and looked out into the vast, dry desert. I then thought about the blue house I was in (not only was the exterior blue; the interior wall, furniture, and appliances were all blue as well). It was old and out of shape, but I liked it. I did not even mind the fact that the house only had one window (maybe the extremely large size of the window compensated for the lack of windows).
I proceeded to set up for dinner. I pulled out from under the stove three very large pots and began to boil water. I then opened up a cupboard and pulled out several pounds of spaghetti and spaghetti sauce. I dumped everything I had into the boiling water, and I even added some vegetables (whole, uncut vegetables) and spices (whole bottles of hot sauce and ketchup). I also added an unhealthy amount of cheese (cottage, parmesan, swiss, and mozzarella) into the mix.
When the spaghetti was done, I put it all into a large pan that took up the entire length of the dinning room table. Then the guest arrived (from out of nowhere). The list of visitors included my old youth pastor (Peter) and his wife, some nicely dressed old businessmen, and Ed Asner (who looked very unhappy). Because I had no utensils, I served these people with my bare hands, which got very messy.
After everyone was served, Ed Asner approached me and began to yell at me. He mentioned something about my establishment being unsanitary and about the food being low class.
Then I awoke.
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