I was in a large lecture hall at a university. The host was a senior professor that was having students give talk about projects that they were working on. The first that I remembered was a psychology major although the details of the discussion are vague. The one I remember was a baker. She was talking about a cake that she made and I got to sample a piece and it was amazing. After the lecture and approached her. She was a largish woman with large red hair. When I told her that I was going enthralled with her cake, she opened up to talking with me and cutting me two large slices that I was quickly devouring. She explained that she used cashew butter and cinnamon in the cake and as I ate it, I would come across pockets of the flavours that she described. I asked her if she used 1/2 or a whole teaspoon and she told me a whole, although she told me that she’d put it in too hastily and it didn’t get mixed in enough.
Suddenly, the dream changed and I was in a room with the Indigo Girls and a bunch of other people that were sitting at tables. I was sitting at the head of a table with Emily Saliers and she started singing Closer I Am to Fine. I started singing it with her and she was listening too me and loved that I knew the words and could sing it on key. So much I guess that she ripped off her top exposing her breasts and started drawing on them with some sort of grease pencil. She was hitting part of it well ‘cos I guess it’s just hard to draw on your own breasts, so I took the pencil and draw a little dot on her nose. Her face and all of the drawing started to coalesced into this beautiful facial drawing that animated as she spoke or sang, swirling vibrating. The people in the room started drawing on these large pieces of butcher block paper, then switching seats and drawing on other people’s drawings until the room’s tables were layered with drawings that multiple people had worked on. All but me… I had a piece of paper but it was covered by other stuff, and there was one of my favourite pens, the Roller Ball that I had sitting there, but I remembered feeling like I didn’t want to share my paper or my pen, I wanted my drawing to myself.
