Naked Lunch

The locality of the icons in dreams often leave the symbolism of their content oblivious to reconciliation. Though we interpose or extrapolate while we are there, it is our own prognostications that leave us gently on the acquiescent side of Nirvana.
It is silly to retaliate upon these notions, but also easy to pick up the telltale signs of the Pit and the Pendulum in our day to day external compositions.  The consequences to our preludes in imaginary scenarios often times leaves us with a variety of flavor profiles that can become various forms of parties in time framed images as attempts at hospitality interludes.
Hospitality makes up most of our lives in ways that all of us engage in those evolutionary ascenscions.  It behooves our spirit once we have become in love with ourselves and secure in the battlefields we have chosen to experience that handing out those nuances of emotional linguistics for the global and often diverse populations of scattered communities is the feast and famine of those catering concepts, usually, but not tied to, three act plays. 
Those forks in the roads, curtain calls, starting with the conceiving of a chosen individual physical reality as a Child, a few encores as a Vagabond of sorts, leaving nourishing lunches strewn along pathways narrowly prosecuted, and closing with anonymous and unseen or felt offerings of food for thought buffets.  Those doorways and halls, either to be opened or traversed over are left up to the ones who you gracefully served up the Naked Lunch to. 
In essence as we flail daily to provide the hospitality to our compatriots in our individual chosen lifestyles, we know we have only succeeded if kind offerings are not only endured but are passed on as keepsakes of our endeavors and imitated to others to continue the strings of perpetual kindness and glorious offspring from the wells of humanity.