My doctor is always preaching to me about by eating choices. My family — especially my daughter and daughter-in-law — keep giving me subtle hints about nutrition. Even my friends question my dietary choices. Of course I listen to them … as I down fried chicken or extra pepperoni on my pizza.

I might have to do some re-thinking. It seems my subconscious has a healthy message for me as well.

Now, I’ve told you I have been doing a lot of dreaming — at night, during naps, even when I’m awake. The other night I had what had all the appearances of a great dream. It had it all … an appearance by my wife … lots of music and glitz… and a unending table of food. By unending, I mean it had it all, breakfast, lunch, dinner, desserts, snacks. There were pancakes, sausage, French toast, bacon, eggs in different forms, hash browns {well browned}, hard rolls {it’s an east coast thing}, all kinds of cold cuts, condiments, sausage and peppers, fried chicken, lasagna, meatballs, pork chops, mashed potatoes, well topped pizza, grilled fresh vegetables, cakes, pies, vats of ice cream, toppings, nuts, chips, mozzarella sticks, a cheese station, two fondue stations — one for dinner and one for dessert — tapped beer kegs, white wine, rose wine, red wine, ports and chardonnay. And that’s just what I saw! I mean, this was gastronomical heaven.

So, of course, I pushed myself away from the table and headed for the feast. Karen stayed behind with a big smile on her angelic face, but it was her index finger that caught my attention. It was wagging back and forth … a signal, I was sure, for me to exercise discretion as I filled my plate.

Did I listen?

Of course not! I had to reach back to my engineering days to figure out how much space I could allocate on my plate for each delicacy without losing any food on my way back to the table. And, I managed to get the most out of my trip to the banquet. My plate was piled high!

Somewhere between the chocolate fondue and arriving back at my table, my dream somehow morphed into a nightmare. Red was still at the table wagging her finger with a smile lighting her face. I gave her my “What?” look as I reached for the silverware … only to discover my fried chicken had been changed to a sensible salad … fruit and vegetables stood where my sausage and pepper sandwich had been … yogurt replaced my triple decker banana split … there were avocados sprinkled all over my plate. Gone were the condiments. Gone were the snacks. Even my dark beer was replaced by sparkling water.

Still smiling, Karen got up and gave me a kiss … as I woke up.

I have to tell you, the gastronomical nightmare has rattled me. Was it a sign? Should I really be taking this diet thing seriously? Should I be listening to my doctor, family and friends? And now my dream self is on my case! I mean, what’s a portly, almost septuagenarian guy to do?

I got the message … and I’ll start watching what I eat {as opposed to WATCHING what I eat}. I’ll incorporate more “healthy” food, fruits and vegetables in my diet. I’ll choose broiled or baked instead of fried whenever practical. But I won’t give up sausage and peppers or pepperoni … I’ll just eat them in moderation. Yeah. That’s my dietary mantra … moderation.

I usually try to take something from my nocturnal wanderings, and I did here. I was thankful there wasn’t any humus or tofu on my plate.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: Even though you may not always understand how, know your situation is not a surprise to God. He will work out every detail.