First of all, the eggs in my dream were not in their carton. They stood upright, transfixed inside my fridge, side by side as if a married couple on their porch.
Who knows what they were looking at? Perhaps each other.
Observing them, they struck me as enigmatic, and so of course I thought of that painting American Gothic.
I noted that the duo’s carton was open, with its 12 pockets vacant, so I theorized that they represented my mom and dad, home alone without us kids, in which case I wouldn’t want to turn them into omelet or poach them !!
In my dream I was hungry, and although I remember racking my brain for humane ways to prepare this breakfast, I had decided that I would not want anyone to crack *my* shell, especially if I were sharing a quiet moment with another egg — one I perhaps loved with all my albumin.