I've always gotten a lot of criticism from friends who can't understand why I would be interested in some of those more abstract studies of the world (astrology and dream symbology come to mind), but I can't help myself. I won't go into that here; I have no desire to defend illogical, mystical, and magical superstitions, but I feel a need to preface this account with a nod to my own delusions. Now, a story.
I dreamt of a family gathering attended only by me, my brother and his girlfriend, our grandmother, and a cousin and her eight-year-old daughter. Andy was in ecstasies over a dessert resembling a cross between gooey butter cake, lemon bars, and blonde brownies. After having eaten his fill, he put some of the leftovers in a plastic container. Putting his face down next to the container, he gave the bars...butterfly kisses, with his eyelashes.
Other leftover bars had been placed on the top rack of the dying dishwasher at my parents' house. As I was noticing them, Katie appeared at my elbow and stated matter-of-factly, "Oh, Go-on-'n' cookies." "What?" "You know, Go-on-'n'-get-up-in-my-mouth cookies." Oh, right...those...
A few days later I discovered this recipe on the homepage of msn after I signed out of my email. As a part of a slide-show of recipes, it was the leading picture and caught my eye. The lemon bars looked exactly like the ones in my dream, only with a slightly smoother top. Now, I'm not particularly fond of lemon-flavored anything, but I feel compelled to make these sometime. Besides, the possibility of seeing my brother give butterfly kisses to a dessert would be reason enough to try them out. Oh, and be sure to notice the first line in the description of the lemon bars...
In a delightfully surreal segment of that same dream, my cousin's usually hyperactive daughter was a more serene version of herself. Gracefully flitting around the house, Lauren gave her mother a cup filled up to the brim with dark soda. This excited my cousin to the point of hysterics, and she bent in half and slapped her leg with a shrill, exaggerated belly laugh. She seemed to be over-compensating for a sorrow that was tormenting her. "She said, 'This is to tide you over.' How great is that?!"
Lauren just continued circling the house, holding a balloon on a short string. The balloon was opaque and flesh-colored and had a face on it. The face looked like a porcelain doll with calm, blue eyes, a petite nose, and a delicate mouth. The face was Lauren's face. Both she and the balloon were quiet and angelic...
"I dream my painting and then paint my dream."
-Vincent Van Gogh
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