I dreamt that I was in an action movie with corona virus. I don’t mean that I had corona virus, it was more a “me versus the virus” action movie. Except you can’t fight a virus with guns.
At one point in the virus action movie dream, I was in a Del Taco. I was so excited just to be there ordering food, that I almost forgot how to do it. I ordered a bean burrito, which is what I get at Taco Bell. Taco Bell is where I usually go when I want to kill myself with the least horrible of the fast food family (kind of). Del Taco does have bean burritos, so that part of the order was no problem. The next thing I ordered was something that Del Taco does not have. The man taking my order, said, “I’m sorry, we don’t serve that. That’s the other guys.” I apologized and looked up at the menu so I could find a second item to order. (Taco Bell is usually a two-item thing for me. I assume Del Taco would be the same.)
I don’t remember what the second item was, and I am not familiar enough with the menu of the establishment in question to venture a guess what my replacement choice would have been. Besides, it was a dream, and dreams don’t make sense anyway. In Taco Bell, I always order a 1. bean burrito and 2. a tostada. In real life, now that I’m awake, I would guess that Del Taco also serves tostadas, but they didn’t in last night’s dream. Go figure.
Then, I went from ordering to getting ready to “dine,” but when I turned around, the inside of the restaurant was suddenly really busy, people crammed in at the tables, and food all over the floor. There were those little bits of shredded lettuce everywhere, and pieces of taco shells. There was also a frenzied excitement vibe in the restaurant, because apparently a famous celebrity had left the fine establishment just moments before. I remember looking around thinking, “what the hell I am I doing here? Why am I at a fast food joint?”
Brittani and friends 
To better understand the complexity of this dream, my husband and I have been eating almost all of our meals at home. This is true from the time before restaurants reopened, once they were reopened, and once they were reclosed. (I’m not sure of the status these days, haven’t checked. The days drift by hazily and I often have days where I am not even sure what day it is.)
The fact that we have been having almost all of our food at home makes this dream sadder for several reasons. 1. I’m not a great cook. (Thanks to the virus, I am getting better, by necessity.) 2. We barely even eat take out since Corona started. I think we have had take out fewer than ten times in the 8 months since this virus has been doing its lethal thing. The fact that we don’t eat take out (or eat in restaurants) makes this dream even worse. What a wasted dream-opportunity! For me to have food I didn’t have to cook, and I went to Del Taco? Seriously?!
Back inside the dream, I suddenly became re-aware Corona virus. I realize, looking at the food all over the floor, shredded lettuce and shards of taco shells, that this place is not particularly hygienic. I am not doing myself any favors by eating here. Further, I realize that the people (now it’s all cleared out, with just a few stragglers left) are not even wearing masks. There are a few young women, giggling, squished right next to each other. One of them is talking loudly while eating with her mouth open, and it is disgusting. I just know her name is Brittany, but probably with an i. She is with a very small group of her friends, most are young women, and they are probably drunk. It seems like it. I look down at the floor and its disgusting-ness. The lettuce, the filth, all of it. I have a momentary panic of “I’ve got to get out of here!”
Suddenly, the guy who took the order, the guy who was sort of teasing me when I didn’t know how to order for Del Taco vs. Taco Bell, is sweeping the floor. He reminds me of the short, Mexican guy on the Jimmy Fallon’s Tonight show. (Is that a thing?) –or he actually is that guy. You know, Guillermo, the one who sits on the chair? Suddenly, the dream is an ad for the action movie of “Corona Virus,” and the Military style SWAT team comes in (they, too, can tell there’s probably virus all over this nasty Del Taco place!). Where better to try to fight it? They have their giant guns, machine guns, AK-47s or what-have-yous, and they storm in as if they are going to be able to do something. I say, “Guys, you know this is a virus, right? Not an action movie!” Then the dream movie turns itself into its own preview. The military/SWAT guys stand down, feeling a little foolish, not really seeing their use in this situation. Neither do I. The announcer says, firmly, “They thought they were going to war. They thought they were going to win. They forgot. (Dramatic pause)…it’s a virus.”
Somewhere between the voice of the announcer and my own brain shouting, “this is ridiculous! It’s a virus!” I wake up. I realize that it really is a war, but not one we can win, and certainly not with guns. Maybe with the help of Pfizer (or the other one), but it’s definitely going to be a long haul. In real life, I am going to stay home. We’re going to keep cooking and having our meals at home. We didn’t go anywhere for Thanksgiving. Christmas was the same soft, gentle dinner for two…also at home. We’ll keep washing and masking, and maybe even sometimes clean all the light switches and the toilet flush, like we did when all the horror began. You can already guess there will be neither Del Taco nor Taco Bell in our life. It would be one thing to die from Corona, another thing to die from Brittani at the Del!
