I dreamed that I was running around some large city with chef Mario Batali. He kept saying that we had to make a Beurre Blanc and that he needed special ingredients for it. I told him there were no special ingredients, only butter, shallots and white wine, but he insisted and kept taking off ahead of me. And god, he was wearing his Crocs.Why the hell did I dream that? Why do I have any of the Weird-Assed Dreams that I'm known for? It makes me wonder sometimes if we don't actually run into other dreamers when we're deeply embedded in our own.
One weird thing about me, I rarely remember my dreams. And when I do, they are too weird to really mention in polite company..
ReplyDeleteThe dreaming is quite complex...we may run into one another every once in a while.
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