Snacks From the Butler's Pantry

Another night of strangely semi-lucid dreams. I've had lots of these in the past week or two. Here's a good...bad example.


My girlfriend's father accidentally bought two clear plastic waste baskets, instead of just one. He gave me the spare. I took a hammer to it, smashing it into tiny shards. I had the idea that I could use these crystal-like shards to help me focus, thus making me more lucid.

I got a plastic bag, and returned to try and gather up all the shattered pieces of plastic. They were buried under slides of old family photos piled up on top of the floor. I had to dig through thousands of these slides to find the mess I had made. When I finally found the shattered crystals on the floor, I started eating them like rock candy. They tasted like flavorless sugar crystals. Just sickly sweet. I needed a glass of water to wash them down.

In the kitchen, I saw my girlfriend's step mom was making a pizza. The small pizza was cooking directly on one burner of the stove. It was bouncing up and down from the heat, like the lid to a boiling pot of water. As I watched, it bounced especially high, and flipped upside down, so the melted cheese was all over the burner and gas flame. I could smell it burning. Before I could do anything, she came in, and started scraping the pizza off the stove and onto a wet frying pan. She didn't seem to mind that it was horribly burned, torn, and messy.

"Go get me some plates! She demanded." I reached into the space in front of me, and plucked one from thin air. It was a porcelain plate with a autumn leaf pattern around the border. My girlfriend's step mom slopped some of the burned pizza mess onto it, and then looked at me in disgust, "I want the paper plates, unless you are planning on doing dishes tonight?" I reached into the empty air in front of me, and produced another matching porcelain plate. I replied, "We can throw these away when we are done with them, they don't really exist." She didn't seem to understand, so I explained that I was stealing them from the astral realm to bring into this dream, so they didn't really exist.

She didn't believe me, and thought it was some kind of trick. She challenged me, "Prove it by getting something that can't be faked. I want an antique wooden dog sled." I thought of her request, and heard the doorbell ring. She opened the door, and saw an ornately carved antique wooden rocking horse. It was large enough for a full size adult to ride, like a carousel horse. Instead of a horse straddling the rails, it was a renaissance cherub. A huge creepy baby with short curly hair. The wood was stained and polished, but showed cracks in the grain from age.

She was amazed, and immediately hauled the thing inside. As she was trying to shove it under the table in the living room, the baby came to life, and started grabbing her leg. "Ma-ma," It cooed, as it clutched at her pant leg with cracked wooden fingers. She shook it off, distractedly annoyed, and returned to the dinner table.

She started questioning me in depth about how I created it. I explained that I've never seen a real dog sled, so I must have connected the idea of the sled's skis with the rails for the rocking horse. I told her that first, you need to be able to access the astral realm. Then, you need to know how to define what you want, so you will have a chance of finding it. The only way to learn is through experience. I showed her again, this time demonstrating with something that looked like computer icons. I pulled several more items from out of nowhere.

My girlfriend's 11 year old brother was staring at me with fascination. His mother was dismissing everything I said, like she didn't think he was mature enough to understand. I locked eyes with him, and said, "You realize the ramifications of this, right? This is heavy, heavy, heavy, man. If you can learn this, you can do anything."

I then popped another piece of plastic rock candy into my mouth, and looked down at my dinner plate to realize I had accidentally taken the entire pizza instead of just one slice. The slices had somehow folded back on themselves, so they were piled up like a stack of pancakes. I started to feel like a rude dinner guest.