Uh oh.

The dream is a simple amalgam of recent crises mixed with nonsensical phobias conjured by an overtaxed psyche. You've been working too hard and you're subconsciously worried that Bucky's going to take over your blog. The computer represents Twitter and related assnine technologies that you feel both pressured and loathe to adopt.
The fact that your lunch was eaten (by some unknown and amid co-workers past and present) reflects recent restaurant closings.
Your mind is rebelling against the responsibility incumbent upon its exercise of complete control over the universe and Nature. It wishes to return to Savannah until further notice.
Helen represents a stronghold of Art and Civilization, and your desire to keep your eye on it at all times while the Tapestry of Exterior Continuity unravels around you.
Don't get me started on the mythological overtones of your father's study as haven. Were, by any chance, its shelves filled with history and digital photography books?

Ok, here's my amateur take on Freudian meaning.
Your father was a person in your life who made you feel safe. His study represents the respect you have for his brainyness (is there such a word?).

The guests were your past and present co-workers representing the thin thread your job exists on these days. The part about your working before joining them is your dedication to your job. Especially, this blog (ahem). The computer being to complicated to figure out symbolizes your jobs being pushed out by new complicated technology. And, being late and having your food eaten means you think you may be too late to do anything about your situation.

If I was really freud, I'd probably do a few lines of Peruvian Marching Powder and smoke my pipe. But, since I'm not, I guess I'll get to work on my real job!

Dahlink - What a great way to start a Monday...So far, I have only read the past two posts, but your very subtle yet hilarious comments made me laugh! Thank You!

It means computers eat life.

Sounds like you were symbolically sharing the fear that as technology becomes more advanced, newspapers will become obsolete. (The juxtaposition of the Sun staffers and the mysterious computer.) Despite dire predictions, here's hoping that won't happen. As much I enjoy this blog ( and others,) old habits die hard and I'd be lost in the morning if the Sun wasn't slipped through the mail slot.

Were any of the other poeple smoking cigars?

I think between them, jl and Joyce W. nailed it. Not very reassuring, is it. But EL, please know that you will always have a seat at our table!

It means you shouldn't eat a pastrami sandwich with mustard and onions before bed.

I just woke up, saw this (yes, I woke up, grabbed my laptop to check for new posts before even getting out of bed) and figured this was my in.

My dream was very food oriented. I was swimming from Spain to France with two female friends. (I seemed an awful lot like the Chesapeake Bay) One of them quit after the first day because apparently I was too difficult. Imagine. So we go ashore in a French town called Montin maybe (it seemed to rhyme with Danton). Even though we have set out on this monumental journey, we didn't have a map and had no idea where we were or where we were going. I've been swimming all day and am famished. I buy a bottle of Remy Martin (nice), some mineral water, crackers and cheese and some other stuff because it was on sale at the market. It was some kind of cheddar, a little sharp, weird for France and weird for me.. The lasting memory is that these were the best crackers that I have ever had. I had no idea crackers could be that good. I guess when you swim from Spain to France you learn stuff. Just the best. You would think that I would focus on more exotic cheese available in France but I really liked those crackers.

Meanwhile my father (President) Jed Bartlett surprised me by meeting me in town. It turns out that we bought all kinds of vegetables too (including celery which I don't even like, maybe that was my companion's), which probably wouldn't fit in my large swimming backpack, which looked remarkably like my mountain climbing pack. I also had a pack of those horrible vending machine cheese and cracker combos (Lance's?); the ones with rye crackers and white cheez. So we get to the place where I'm supposed to meet my remaining partner, but someone stole a secret service agent's bike and then it turns into a movie similar to one that I saw with BG starring Dennis Quaid. Lots of cool weapons everywhere but no actual threat visible. They wouldn't give me a Glock. No official weapons training.

MAG- You have a mail slot??

Yes, but what was for lunch?

Weird. I needed to make up a name for something and I asked a friend last night and he said "Helen" I said, no that was my grandmother's and he said yes his too. And now Helen the lunch stealer.

Good one Lissa.

Seriously, that's a no big deal dream. Common general anxiety with things from your life as arbitrary symbolic details. It's a Monday after vacation dream. You're afraid you will miss out on things because of work which follows you everywhere now via your computer and afraid that you missed something at work because you were on vacation. Actually you did. Helen brought in these cupcakes that were amazing.

The computer represents the computer.

Eve, lots of us city dwellers have mail slots.

Sometimes a computer is just a computer.

Was the computer a Mac or a PC? It must have been a PC if it was to complicated to use. :-)

I just realized that I never dream about lunch. What does that say about me?

Lunch is boring. It's a bounded event usually sandwiched between drudgery. Dream bigger.

i dream about hot air balloons a lot.

I dreamed I saw St Augustine alive as you or me.

RayRay, nice Bobbie Zimmerman ref. You might remember that I too had a dream of St. Augustine. See the first comment.

What's the difference between a lunch and a luncheon? The age of the attendee? 8>]

...Alive as you or me,
Tearing through these quarters
In the utmost misery,
With a blanket underneath his arm
And a coat of solid gold,
Searching for the very souls
Whom already have been sold.

"Arise, arise," he cried so loud,
In a voice without restraint,
"Come out, ye gifted kings and queens
And hear my sad complaint.
No martyr is among ye now
Whom you can call your own,
So go on your way accordingly
But know you're not alone."

I dreamed I saw St. Augustine,
Alive with fiery breath,
And I dreamed I was amongst the ones
That put him out to death.
Oh, I awoke in anger,
So alone and terrified,
I put my fingers against the glass
And bowed my head and cried.

One of my favorite Dylan songs YumPo. John Mcintyre and I were sitting around in our blue jeans listening to it the other day.