I hold Alan accountable for not only the things he does in reality, but the things he does in my dreams.  I can't afford to make exceptions; once word leaks out that a pirate has gone soft, people begin to disobey you and then it's nothing but work, work, work all the time.

Last Friday night, among other things in the midst of a strange and disjointed dream, I dreamt that I wanted a snack and so ate some Pringles potato chips.  When I woke up, I had a serious craving for Pringles.  We didn't have any in the house; that's not something I usually keep on hand and generally try to aim for healthier snacks, but once the idea was implanted, I could not rid myself of the craving.  It had to be Pringles, too - Lay's or Ruffles need not apply.

When Alan came home from Tai Chi, I had already started the grocery list.  Besides our normal staples like Syfo, apples and yogurt, I had written "PRINGLES" in all caps at the top of the list.

"Pringles, eh?" Alan queried.  I explained about the dream and the resulting craving.

"But you know the weird part?"  I added.  "When I went to the kitchen to get the Pringles in my dream, they were in the refrigerator."

"What?  Why would they be in the refrigerator?"

"I don't know - why did you put them there?"

"What makes you think it was me who put them there?"

"Because I'd never put potato chips in the refrigerator.  It's a mad thing to do."

Every now and then since, I've asked him why he put the Pringles in the refrigerator.  He has yet to provide a satisfactory explanation for himself.