gordon ramsay likes sprinkles

These last few days at work are slow, and I’m anxious to get started at the new job! So anxious, in fact, that I’ve been having trouble sleeping properly the past few nights. But, last night I finally had a decent-enough sleep, and whatever happens below is a result of that sleep.

Last night, I had a dream that I was an artist and a master baker.

In the dream, I am in a large apartment. It feels like a big mill apartment, with very high ceilings, an open layout, and modern stainless steel appliances. I walk into the kitchen area, a little island in the middle of a very wide open apartment space. There’s a microwave, a refrigerator, a bit of counter space, and in the middle of it all, Gordon Ramsay. I watch as he and Jen pour sprinkles (the kind for ice cream) into paper cup. Gordon fills the cup to the very top, then places it into the microwave. The microwave melts the sprinkles into a kind of soft paste, which can be spread out like fondant, or rolled into balls for little Christmas treats. Jen and Gordon are adding peppermint extract, then rolling them into little balls.

When I walk in, Jen has a look of relief on her face. She walks away to go do something she has been putting off for hours, and I take over. I pick up a paper cup that has wax on the outside of it (you know, pretty much the only way you can get a paper cup, unless it’s one of those tiny bathroom ones). Gordon Ramsay flips out: “YOU CAN’T PUT A FUCKING WAXED CUP IN THE MICROWAVE!” Oh, right. I fill a different, non-waxed paper cup with sprinkles and place it in the microwave. As it turns on, I can see the sprinkles melting into each other and rising up, looking like a ball of white chocolate hovering above the edges of the cup. When it’s done, I pull it out of the microwave to get it ready for balling. I notice a reddish swirl running through the white, but place my body in front of the cup before Gordon can notice the imperfections of my sprinkle-fondant. When I go to take a chunk of the paste out of the cup, it turns back into sprinkles at my touch, and I know I have failed, but I don’t feel too bad about it.

DREAM SHIFT

I am at my aunt’s house in Pelham. It is small, and there are a lot of family members there. The house is ranch-style, with one hallway. Everyone in the living room has a laptop with them, and they are all showing each other YouTube videos, checking e-mail, and are generally not paying attention to anything that’s happening in the world that surrounds them. I take the opportunity to paint a gigantic mural all down the hallway, on all three sides. The mural is of rainbow-colored mountains outlined in black. The mountains shoot up all the way to the ceiling, and fade from red to orange to yellow to green to blue, with perfect shading. It’s whimsical and bright, and when I finish my work, everybody stops staring at their computers and remarks on the happiness the mural brings to all in the house. Then I woke up.

I have to say, I really want to see if sprinkles melt in the microwave, but something tells me they don’t. Too many chemicals?