I had a dream the other night night; not an important one, but an interesting one.
Deb and I were shopping. She picked up a premeasured bulk-bag of popcorn seeds and another of powdered cheesy topping for the popcorn. The display had a large sign labeled, BINKO, and I noticed that on the bags of popcorn was a sticker advertising a BINGO night at the store for a Samoan fundraiser (specifically for the EFKS—Samoan Christian congregational church).
We went to the BINKO night and were seated at the end of the cereal aisle, though it also had conveniently located milk (or milk substitute) in a box (UHT-ultra heat treated for long shelf life) as well.
We started playing BINKO, using wooden Scrabble-like tiles (sans engraved letters) to cover our called squares which proved more a hassle than anything (In Samoa, they use markers—liquid filled with a sponge-like application tip—to mark the squares on the BINGO cards).
In time, I had all but one tile filled in a row—the score cards were much larger with more spaces than in traditional BINGO. The outer three spaces all around the board were, for some reason, called the “safety zone.” A lady one down from us was in the same situation as I—all but one space in a row filled, the empty space in the safety zone.
At that point, we’d been using our BINKO cards for a time with no winners. The judge decided that the cards were defective and that any with a nearly complete row (or column or diagonal) with the missing space in the safety zone was a winning card.
The lady and I each called out “BINKO, BINKO, BINKO!” and got to go to the prize booth to choose a prize. Because of the defunct-card situation, we were not given the option to choose the actual prize, rather we could choose from a grab bag of goodies.
I chose a Ziploc back with four Chips Ahoy cookies in it and took them back to our table to share with Deb.
Significantly, in real life, Deb and I have been in a sugar fast of sorts. But in my dream I decided that I was sick of the fast, I was going to eat my cookie prize (two of the four). I looked up and to my left down the aisle and retrieved a boxed milk (or substitute) called “Protest.” It was situated next to the Cocoa Puffs Charged—caffeinated Cocoa Puffs.
I joked that the milk was called Protest in reference to its taste. But it tasted fine with the cookies.
Deb and I were not stealing the Protest milk, or the boxed orange juice that we were also working on. We intended to take the empty containers to the register and pay for them after BINKO.
I looked up again at the shelf to see the price of the Protest: $9.95 or something outrageous like that.
In a much earlier segment of the dream, we were driving, amazed at the number of highschoolers with 80s-style Corvettes parked on the sides of the road. I commented that they were parked like that because they couldn’t afford the price of gasoline—upwards to $5.
Thus was my dream. Each prize level had a BINKO card requiring a separate buy-in. As the quality of prizes increased, so did the price of the BINKO cards. Apparently, we were at the beginning, hence less expensive, part of the night for my prize to have been four Chips Ahoy cookies.