|It gives you wings.|
What is their job title, anyways? I should know this, I worked at an amusement park the summer after high school. Except I worked in the Food Division and my job title was Floater. Which is a little gross, but I digress.
The ridemaster took my ticket and handed me a Red Bull. Apparently the ride wasn't a ride, but a contest. I had to see how many Red Bulls I could drink before my vital signs showed signs of exploding. Always up for a challenge, I chugged two Red Bulls before my vitals went bezerk. I know, I'm a lightweight.
Then they told me to wait in a room for a certain amount of time, after which they'd take my vitals again. I went into the room, which turns out was a bathroom. I spent much of the time trying to figure out how to lock the door. Once locked, I decided - well, it was a bathroom after all. Apparently though earlier in my dream I had been swimming or something. Anyone who has had to pull a wet swimsuit down and up knows how time consuming that can be.
In any case, by the time I exited the room, they'd forgotten I was in there and two other people had started chugging Red Bulls. The ridemaster had mistakenly told one of them that they had won while he was looking at my stats. Once I emerged from the room he realized his mistake and made it right.
With full fanfare, the ridemaster handed me my grand prize: three pounds of sliced bologna, two pounds of sliced pepperoni and a bag of Skittles.
I ran over to Kaitlin and her friends who were waiting for me and a held up the bologna, waving it in the air. "Who wants a bologna sandwich?!" I said. Then feeling silly, or maybe it was the effects of the Red Bull, I added as I waved the pepperoni at them in my best Little Caesar voice, "Pizza, pizza!"
And that was what I was dreaming when my alarm went off this morning.
Before that, I dreamed about being in a play about JFK's inauguration. And renovating an old school building.
Now you have had a look into my subconscious dream state. In the words of Robert De Niro, "analyze that!"