Dream: Baking Anxiety and... Dogs?
Wednesday, 18 Nov 2009:
My mom's friend Pat ran an informal cooking class in her kitchen. I went to the grocery store before class, and I brought my bulk raisins and 20-pound sack of flour. I arrived early, so I made a little raisin-filled Stollen, just a simple version of what my Dad makes every Christmas. Pat smiled when she saw it and decided she teach a recipe for that tomorrow.
I was late for class the next day; everyone was pressing dough with large screens. I popped a window screen out of the window and brought it to the kitchen counter. I added water to what felt like corn meal and stirred it by hand, but they wouldn't mix. Everyone else had globs of dough, but I just had water and a bunch of tiny granules. Sand held moisture better than whatever I was using. I saw a large shaker on the table filled with what looked like bath salts. I pointed to it, and quietly asked the person across from me to pass the yeast.
I walked into a large, furnished room in a basement. Four long tables had been arranged in a square, leaving a six-foot square hole in the middle. sinister_dr_x sat by the wall on the far side. Three or four players sat on the near side. They were dealing with something in a forest. sinister_dr_x had lost a player, and had invited me to make a character and join the game. He was pointing at people in turn and rolling a die when I sat down. Apparently, they had been fighting wolf-weres, and he was determining the after-effects of their wounds.
He skipped me and pointed at the person to my right, rolling a three.
"15%!" sinster_dr_x laughed.
I looked quizzically at the person on my left.
"15% of his mind has become dog," he explained. "That's how it works, now."
sinster_dr_x pointed at me and rolled again, then threw his arms up in amused triumph.
"100%!" he exclaimed.
"Can I rebuild my character?" I asked. I didn't mind playing a character that thought he was a wolf (and would normally have left the game), but it seemed silly to try it when my stats still said I was a candle shaman.
"We'll figure it out before the next game," he assured me.
Other people kept showing up at the game, and I got confused about how many characters were in the party. When I finally counted, 13 people sat around the table, so I was sure some of them were spectators, but I couldn't tell which ones.
Our party reached a town in the woods, I think, and sinster_dr_x got excited as he set up our enemies on the map. We had been ambushed by LEGO men and some plastic war toys... I think I saw a Swampmasher among them.
I left the game to look for a bathroom. We were in the house of a friend's relative; I'd never been here before, and I was afraid I'd get lost. The basement went on and on, fully furnished; I passed bedroom suites and reception halls, marveling at the expensive decor. Every bathroom I found was occupied, but many of the hallways I explored had a single toilet or urinal installed in the middle, most surrounded by deep orange tiles [like the bathroom in our hotel in Madrid].
I forgot why I was looking for a bathroom, and I couldn't remember whether or not the game had finished. I wandered into a busy commercial kitchen and knew I was lost. I followed a waiter to the bar, walked to the corner where it was empty, then climbed over onto the customers' side; my boots left little black streaks on the bar. The large hall was filled with tables and boisterous quinquagenarians in suits, members of the Lions club gathered for an event.
My mom's friend Pat ran an informal cooking class in her kitchen. I went to the grocery store before class, and I brought my bulk raisins and 20-pound sack of flour. I arrived early, so I made a little raisin-filled Stollen, just a simple version of what my Dad makes every Christmas. Pat smiled when she saw it and decided she teach a recipe for that tomorrow.
I was late for class the next day; everyone was pressing dough with large screens. I popped a window screen out of the window and brought it to the kitchen counter. I added water to what felt like corn meal and stirred it by hand, but they wouldn't mix. Everyone else had globs of dough, but I just had water and a bunch of tiny granules. Sand held moisture better than whatever I was using. I saw a large shaker on the table filled with what looked like bath salts. I pointed to it, and quietly asked the person across from me to pass the yeast.
I walked into a large, furnished room in a basement. Four long tables had been arranged in a square, leaving a six-foot square hole in the middle. sinister_dr_x sat by the wall on the far side. Three or four players sat on the near side. They were dealing with something in a forest. sinister_dr_x had lost a player, and had invited me to make a character and join the game. He was pointing at people in turn and rolling a die when I sat down. Apparently, they had been fighting wolf-weres, and he was determining the after-effects of their wounds.
He skipped me and pointed at the person to my right, rolling a three.
"15%!" sinster_dr_x laughed.
I looked quizzically at the person on my left.
"15% of his mind has become dog," he explained. "That's how it works, now."
sinster_dr_x pointed at me and rolled again, then threw his arms up in amused triumph.
"100%!" he exclaimed.
"Can I rebuild my character?" I asked. I didn't mind playing a character that thought he was a wolf (and would normally have left the game), but it seemed silly to try it when my stats still said I was a candle shaman.
"We'll figure it out before the next game," he assured me.
Other people kept showing up at the game, and I got confused about how many characters were in the party. When I finally counted, 13 people sat around the table, so I was sure some of them were spectators, but I couldn't tell which ones.
Our party reached a town in the woods, I think, and sinster_dr_x got excited as he set up our enemies on the map. We had been ambushed by LEGO men and some plastic war toys... I think I saw a Swampmasher among them.
I left the game to look for a bathroom. We were in the house of a friend's relative; I'd never been here before, and I was afraid I'd get lost. The basement went on and on, fully furnished; I passed bedroom suites and reception halls, marveling at the expensive decor. Every bathroom I found was occupied, but many of the hallways I explored had a single toilet or urinal installed in the middle, most surrounded by deep orange tiles [like the bathroom in our hotel in Madrid].
I forgot why I was looking for a bathroom, and I couldn't remember whether or not the game had finished. I wandered into a busy commercial kitchen and knew I was lost. I followed a waiter to the bar, walked to the corner where it was empty, then climbed over onto the customers' side; my boots left little black streaks on the bar. The large hall was filled with tables and boisterous quinquagenarians in suits, members of the Lions club gathered for an event.