this morning i dreamt that a group of aspiring chefs on one of those TV cooking competition shows was scrambling to cook me an authentic Vietnamese meal because for a reason unclear to me, i was special. the meal would take place in a dimly lit warehouse with tea lights lining the bare ground. i sat on a silk pillow waiting for them to arrange the food around me. it smelled so good.  they had to get all the dishes out by a certain time. some strict looking fella next to me was keeping time. i remember one lady chef with blonde hair tied in a loose bun put her vegetable porridge dish down too haphazardly and it spilled a little onto the ground, minus points, she almost started crying. i felt bad for her, but i said nothing. once all the dishes were out, the fella told me to start with the pho. just as i was about to take my first bite of the thick noodle stretching from a fragrant, steaming broth, my alarm went off.

i woke up distraught, mouth watering, craving, i had pho for lunch. and it was good. 

...but dream pho, i will never know you...

Authorjustine lee