raw chicken is bad for friendship

1) brother was driving me to the airport or some other point of departure. it was a long trip with lots of stops at odd places, like a desert, or an abandoned school with lots of well trimmed grass. for some reason we had brought along our mom's 2 pet lizards (in real life, she's got a pair of frogs). I was carrying one of them on an empty paper towel roll and he'd run up and down the thing, likewise with the brother. For some reason, we kept "getting out" (I assume we got out of a car, though I have no specific impression of a vehicle) and tempting fate. Finally, it happened, the lizards jumped off the rolls and vanished into some grass. And that was that.

2) I and my officemates were at a going away lunch for a coworker (call him Bob) who is actually leaving this week in real life. I arrived possibly "after" the lizard incident, but certainly without showering or combing my hair. Oops. So I seated myself next to my real life cubicle neighbor, we'll call him Billy. Bob's wife is sitting to Billy's left, Bob is sitting next to his wife, and I am to Billy's right. Don't know if I had anyone on my right. The boss's boss stands up and gives a short bullcrap speech, not mentioning at all that Bob is leaving - very similar to what happened at the last "going away" lunch we co-attended. Wait staff brings by a plate for everyone. On the plates are 2 uncooked chicken breasts and some decorative lettuce. Billy grabs his and starts tearing into it. I stop him and say something clever like "hey man, that stuff will kill you!" He spits it out and for some reason is angry with me, like he would have been better off enjoying a meal of raw chicken.

So Billy knocks over my plate and one of the chicken parts falls on the floor. He puts his head down and pouts, possibly crying. This is very exaggerated but not uncharacteristic of Billy in real life.

Now I'm pissed, because in trying to save Billy from severe intestinal duress, I've lost half of my lunch, and I was kind of hungry - even though I had no idea at this point how I was going to cook my chicken. So I get up and turn around and what do you know, we're at some sort of American-style Mongolian Barbecue. There's an oval shaped Big Grill thing, with receptacles full of stuff that really isn't suitable for grilling, like corn kernels and beet slices and pickles or something. (Speaking of pickles, in annother earlier, unrelated dream that I don't remember from last night, I was at another restaurant with different coworkers and ordered sliced pickles as a topping for whatever dish I ordered. They balked.) Fortunately, they also had hot dogs. So I walked around the oval shaped Big Grill, grabbed a hot dog and some corn kernels, and tossed the hot dog on the grill. It wasn't a grill with a grate, it was a flat grill with a nonstick surface (like a George Foreman grill ;). The surface was sloped up slightly, towards the inside of the structure. To compensate, there were slight upraised ridges so that you could put something roly poly like a hot dog on and it wouldn't end up on the floor. I tempted fate by tossing my dog on, and it rolled down and nearly achieved escape velocity before being stopped by a ridge.

At this point I woke up with both arms asleep. Flop, flop, flop go the sleepy arms.