[Disclaimer: If you haven’t seen the Lord of the Rings movies, this post will make no sense to you.]
[Disclaimer 2: If you have seen the movies, this still won’t make sense. Onward!]
Two dreams about making bread. The first was a standard jumble of the last few days, places and thoughts. Punchline: I was invited to bake bread at a market/cooking school, but the monthly fee was $14.99! Extortion!
In the second dream, I came upon a mostly-abandoned concentration camp. A large stone courtyard had rows of ovens at the perimeter, and I knew this was where orcs and Uruk Hai were making Hobbits into…wait for it…bread! As I considered the implications of this (would it be more buttery?), an Uruk Hai came charging across the courtyard. Damn. I wish I had chosen to be Legolas, so I could take him down at a distance with a few well-placed arrows. Instead, I was Pippin, or someone equally foolish and deadly as a wiffle bat, and realized I would have to let this Uruk get all up in my face before I let loose a flurry of slaps. Luckily my brain fast-forwarded through that embarrassing scene.
Toward the end of the dream I saw all the ovens, flour, peels, and ingredients, and thought, “Well, wouldn’t it be a waste to leave this? Couldn’t I just make a little bread as a tribute?”
Just before I woke up, I saw that the clever orcs had torn a hole in the middle of a massive piece of bread, presumably to make a toad-in-a-hole variant based on hobbit. Looks like meat’s back on the menu, boys!
Writer, architect, father, husband.
"It's not hobbity enough.""No, es muy hobbity!"