Last night I had a dream. I was standing in the canned goods aisle at ShopRite and there were only a few scattered cans on the otherwise empty shelves. I had missed the Can Can Sale.

Obviously, I could use a little more excitement in my life if this is what my subconscious mind is worrying about.

I think I know why I had this dream. I went to ShopRite at an off hour (for me at least), at 7 p.m. on Wednesday. The difference from shopping at 10 a.m., on any day, was stunning. The people there were younger than me, not older. The music wasn't the Beach Boys. Teenagers with a live sense of humor were covering the registers. There were men in suits. No one bumped me with their cart in the narrow aisles and failed to apologize, like usual.

Let me back track here. I hate ShopRite. I haven't shopped there regularly in years. I will drive to Stop n Shop in Danbury to escape the narrow ailes, long lines and aggressive social climate. I'm always checking my back, in fear that someone might tackle me for the last box of Oreos, leaving me face down on the floor. It's being on the floor there that is most terrifying.  

The opening of Big Y in Bethel sealed the deal. I would rather pay more and eat less at Big Y than deal with ShopRite. I'm a grocery store snob. It's my mother's fault, but that's a story for another time.

To be truthful, I don't have time to clip coupons and read sales flyers and I only went to the Can Can Sale once, for four boxes of cereal for four dollars. Obviously, that was worth the risk.

So back to the story: it was a more positive experience to be there in the evening. I might, if it's convenient, go there again.

Let me backtrack, again. Nine years ago when we moved to Brookfield, my tiny (4'11" with the wind in her hair) but sassy little grandmother came to live with us. She loved ShopRite. The deals, the selection of donuts, but best of all, they'd let her drive a motorized cart, designed for people who need them. She could walk just fine, but in her 85 years she never bothered to get a driver's license, so this was a special thrill for her. And man, did she play it.

And that was how we spent many afternoons, with Grandma chasing me around ShopRite in her cart. Sometimes, she'd sneak up on me slowly, take her cane and poke me in the back and giggle. "Oh, come on, I'm an old lady, let me have some fun!" She would frequently bump into people in the crowded store and she knocked down many displays, saying "Oh my, was that my fault?" Rather than get up out of her seat, she would use her cane to knock items off higher shelves and try to catch them in the cart's front basket. If she missed, she'd call to me, "Hey, pick that up for me, would you?"

When the shopping was complete, she would drive herself out in front of the store and wait for me to get my bags and the Adventurer (then age 3) into the car and come pick her up. In front of ShopRite, she would bicker with me. "Well, you took long enough. I thought you were leaving me here! Get my step stool so I can get in the car."  So I would get a little plastic step stool out of the back and hoist her into the front seat of our Land Rover, (she got out by sliding carefully, as if dismounting a horse). She would chat pleasantly all the way home about the joys of ShopRite, the pretty trees in Brookfield and the puppy who would have trashed the house in our absence.

We did this every week, until she discovered that as a Brookfield resident she could take the Senior HART Bus just about anywhere she wanted. She no longer needed me to drive her around. "They have stairs to get on the bus that are good for people like me," she told me. "Not like your car."

I couldn't resist. "People like you? You mean the remaining members of the Lollipop Guild?"

She nudged me with her cane, laughing.

Anyway, I think  my dream has three possible meanings:

1. I need to give ShopRite another chance and get to the Can Can Sale early.
2. We really need a farmer's market in Brookfield, because canned veggies are not sufficient.
3. There is a gaping, empty shelf in my life. I miss my grandmother's company grocery shopping.

I think it's number three, though my Grandmother would have loved a farmer's market enough to overlook the lack of motorized carts.