“I want a refund for this tea,” I tell the saleswoman. “I described what dream I wanted, remember?”
She consults a tiny notebook. “Right-o,” she says. “Serenaded by your favorite singer in a field of daisies. Sweet!”
“You’d think so,” I say. “Instead, I was sitting in a massive daisy, then this giant bee with the face of my favorite singer came along, tried to push me off to reach the pollen, then stung me!”
The saleslady tsk-tsks. “Dreams aren’t an exact science. Want me to give you another tea, so you can try again?”
I sigh. “Well, fine. Okay.”
She consults a tiny notebook. “Right-o,” she says. “Serenaded by your favorite singer in a field of daisies. Sweet!”
“You’d think so,” I say. “Instead, I was sitting in a massive daisy, then this giant bee with the face of my favorite singer came along, tried to push me off to reach the pollen, then stung me!”
The saleslady tsk-tsks. “Dreams aren’t an exact science. Want me to give you another tea, so you can try again?”
I sigh. “Well, fine. Okay.”
