But when all goes well with you, remember me and show me kindness; mention me to Pharaoh and get me out of this prison.
After lunch, another prison guard threw a royal baker with some fetched water from a bowl and a loaf of stale, week-old bread. However, there were burn marks all over his body, as if someone on the higher rungs of royalty was so mad at him he had the gall to throw his freshly-baked sweets in his face.
Yes: even royal men had it rough those days. But it was their dreams that made them go through Hell.
But the other one saw three baskets full of all kinds of bread over his head, as crows and ravens and rabid vultures partook in the glorious feast. Yet his head fell lighter, and lighter, and even lighter, as if someone deflated his scalp with a stubbed ax. Blood came out of his eyes. Blood came out of his ears. The Pharaoh enjoyed the spectacle, laughing with heed and fixing his royal crown.
And there was Joseph: in the middle of the dreams, colliding in an iron prison cell, hearing the cheers and hoorays from the cup-bearer, and splattered by the bloody crumbs of the baker's bread.
If only someone was kind enough to acknowledge his existence...