Truffles, truffles and more truffles!
Real Life: Last night my mom made pasta with truffle oil and parmesan cheese at the prodding of my boy and myself; we had seen Emeril do it two days ago. Much truffle conversation ensued.
Dream: We want to make pasta with truffles, but we only have truffle oil. I'm rehersing for a play in a dream-version of my high school. There are many more water-slides than at my actual high school. There is also a cheerleading squad, which my single-sex school didn't have. Absolutely no progress can be made with either the cheers or the play until we have some truffles for the pasta. My mom reveals to me that she has been secretly hiding one black truffle in her cupboard for over a year. She gives it to me, but it is all shriveled, and I doubt if my director or the girls with blonde pig-tails will accept it. I slice off a small piece of skin and it bleeds like a beet. It smells sour. Everyone is gathered around me watching me appraise the truffle and bat away pigs. I decide that it has fermented, but, never fear! everyone knows that truffles ferment into vinegar. I call for some vinegar, red wine, not balsamic. I cut the truffle into it and assure everyone that after the truffle is properly absorbed by the vinegar, we can make truffle vinegrette for our meal and everything will be okay. They accept that, and everyone resumes practicing.I am relieved.
Highly prefferable to the night before's dream: Dream Log: December 5, 2000.