Bugs (ick)

I’m in  a house. It is my house, but it doesn’t look like my current house or any other I’ve ever been in. There are a lot of people there. I go upstairs and go into the attic. There is a gaping hole in the ceiling and water is dripping through. Damn! How did that happen? I go over and pick up the beach towels that were stored in that corner and they are covered with mold, one so much that the edge has been eaten away. That one will have to be thrown away, but the other one should be okay. I turn around and am startled because suddenly in front of me is this honeycomb like structure that is gigantic; it is about three feet wide and goes all the way up to the ceiling. There are little black beads in the holes and I get the impression that they are larvae of some type. I am completely squicked out and scream and jump back. There is a can of Lysol sitting on a box, and I grab it and spray the entire can on the honeycomb. Even in the dream I remember thinking, “Lysol doesn’t work against these kinds of bugs,” but I did it anyway.

I’m on a plane. I’m sitting fairly close to the front, and it must have been years ago, because I can actually see through to the cockpit window. I’m fretting that I’m going to be late and miss a concert. The pilot calls back over his shoulder that we are stacked. There is another plane that zooms over the top of us and immediately does a roll to land in front of us. I think I hope to hell he’s not going to do that to us.

We land, and I am fretting because I’m afraid I’m going to miss the event. They tell me that the nurse that looked at the little boy from the last time I was here wants to talk to me. She inexplicably pulls out a stethoscope and listens to my heart and says “It’s still racing.” I say, “It is not; it’s fine.” She puts her hand on my chest and says “It’s still racing.” I am getting really pissed; why is a nurse listening to my heart to begin with, and damn, I am so sick of doctors telling me I don’t know what is going on with my own body. I pull away from her. There is another person there who is criticizing me for bringing two lawn chairs. She tells me that the big one will be too large to carry, and I should just take the small one. I look at the two of them and folded up they are almost identical shape. I am so pissed. Why is everyone messing with me like this?

Then I am in a large warehouse type building. Something nefarious is going on, and I am trying to either put something or get something out of the trash before the big baddie sees me. This part of the dream isn’t very clear, but it involves me going through the fence gate into my front yard and messing with something underneath the tree by the garage.

Dutifully logged for your amusement.


2015 Taurus New Moon Dreams

Dream sequence begins thus:

I am back in school. I am trying to get to school, but there has been snow and ice and the threat of more. I’m trying to figure out how to get there and what I should wear as I have to walk (apparently I am back in high school, but I look like me now, not me then).

There is a young woman with a doll house. She is pointing out each of the rooms and talking about each one. As she does, my dream zooms in on each room. I don’t remember what was in each room, so I don’t know what the point of zooming in was. Then the woman hands me a very thin platinum wedding band. “Hold on to this for me, will you?” she asks.

I ask “Why would you want to give me your wedding ring?”

She says, “I made it; I want you to hold on to it for me for a while.” I start to put it in my pocket, and she says, “No, you can wear it; it’s ok.”

I say “It probably won’t fit.” I try to put it on my little finger, but it is too big. She laughs at me. I then try it on my ring finger, and it is snug, but it will fit. I notice when I put it on that what looked like a thin band is really a claddagh ring, and the woman’s name, Danielle, is engraved on the inside. I think it is really weird a woman would make a wedding ring for herself, but I’m distracted by some commotion to the right.

Apparently, I’m on the set of my favorite tv show, but I don’t know what it is since I don’t recognize any of the actors. High up on a loft-like structure a man is lying on his stomach and he is confessing to a priest who is kneeling next to him. I don’t remember what he is confessing, but I realize, looking closer, that the priest has him tied up. Vigilante priest? The dream then zooms out, and I see  a line of other men, on their stomachs with their hands tied behind their backs, in a row next to the first guy. I’m really disturbed that these men are tied up.

Then I am in the kitchen of our house, and I notice that the lights are on in our shed. They aren’t on an automatic timer, so I don’t know why they are on. I tell boo that we need to go find out if someone is in the shed. As I’m looking at the shed, I think it’s a bit odd. The front of the shed looks like ours, but the back looks like a house. About half way down the side, there is a little patio with a 70s era cushioned chair right in front of a door, and then the shed becomes two-story from there.

I go out the patio door, and instead of going to the shed, which is to the right, I go to the left, and instead of the pond, there is a two-story A-frame house. There are some really stereotypical hillbillies lurking about and yelling misogynist things at me. I ignore them and go inside. In the loft there is a couch and there is my boo and we both flop down on the couch, laughing and cross our legs. We just know to do the same things without talking. We’re both in black; I have on yoga pants and a black long sleeve shirt; he’s in black sweats and a long sleeve shirt.  I realize that the web cam is set up and we are getting ready to record a podcast. “What are we going to talk about today?” I ask, and then I wake up.

Apparently, according to Wikipedia, (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Claddagh_ringmothers hand these claddagh rings down to daughters, and grandmothers to granddaughters. So even though the young woman was younger than I was, and there is no one in my family named Danielle, I suppose I am to take her as a matriarchal figure. That puts a new spin on the house, as house then becomes lineage rather than a literal house. Maybe it’s a spiritual lineage, since the very next shot in the dream was a priest. But what was the priest forcing the men to confess?

So then there are three more “houses” after that–our current house, the shed that has morphed into a house in the back, and the A-frame. Since I never get to the shed, I don’t know what is in it, except the light is on unexpectedly (light= energy? spirit?). The A-frame had an all-glass front and all the lights were on inside; it was “blazing” and boo and I were in the loft (highest area, and, weirdly, where the priest was in his part of the dream). We’re being very twinny, and intuitively synching our movements, but we’re also getting ready to “broadcast” something. Are we taking over the priest function? Are we getting ready to “preach”?

Review: Aldi’s Gluten-Free Cinnamon Streusel Muffin Mix

Two weeks ago I popped in to Aldi’s to pick up some fresh veggies and bread and immediately walked into three whole shelves of new gluten-free products. Most were Hamburger Helper-type meals, and since Aldi’s g-free pasta does not sit well with my tummy, I passed on those. However, on the last shelf were five new baking mixes: a chocolate cake, a yellow cake, an angel food cake (no, you are not hallucinating), banana muffin and cinnamon swirl muffin. Since I didn’t have much money on me, I grabbed the two that looked most promising: the angel food cake and the cinnamon streusel muffin.

Today’s baking adventure was the muffin.

Aldi's Gluten-Free Muffin Mix

Aldi’s Gluten-Free Muffin Mix

The mix requires one stick of butter for the batter and another three tablespoons for the streusel. I just found that our local Walmart has started carrying Organic Valley cultured butter, so I decided to give it a try. The batter also required 3/4 a cup of milk (I used unsweetened almond) and a room temperature egg.

The egg and butter are creamed; then the mix and milk are dumped in and given a good beating until incorporated. When finished, the batter looks pretty much like any other batter.

Muffin batter

Muffin batter

The streusel required the 3 tablespoons of butter be cut in. This is the part of the mix that I found to be a bit off. There was way too much streusel mix given the required amount of butter, and it was impossible to cut in the butter and the mix throughly.

Proportions were also a problem as the instructions said to fill the muffin tins one half, then add streusel, then finish filling and top with streusel. You guessed it–I had streusel to spare and not enough batter to cover all the muffins. About five muffins went topless. Next time, instead of making twelve muffins, I will try for nine.



I used muffin tin liners as I have a very old tin.

Disproportionate muffins

Disproportionate muffins

Instructions called for 18-20 minutes in a 350 degree oven (I have gas). I set the timer for 18 minutes, and when I checked, they were perfect.

Baked and almost ready to eat!

Baked and almost ready to eat!

These need to cool considerably before you try to take them out of the tin. They will crumble. There’s not much rise to the muffin (but there usually isn’t in g-free anyway), but the sugar mixture on the top does give them a nice brown.

The texture of the muffin is again what you would expect from good g-free: very soft and crumbly. It’s very similar to the soft texture you would get using my favorite g-free flour, King Arthur (I haven’t tried King Arthur’s muffin mix to compare yet). The taste was excellent; I was glad I used the unsweetened almond milk as both the streusel and the muffin mix have quite a lot of sugar in them. The cultured butter baked up well too. There’s a good, strong cinnamon flavor but not the overpowering cinnamon you might get from a cinnamon roll. The muffin reminded me (as did the sampling of the batter–you know I would) of the base for an old-fashioned apple or spice cake. Since those are two of my favorite cakes, I rather liked the flavor of these muffins. However, if you are expecting the strong cinnamon-sugar flavor of a typical commercial product, you won’t find it here.

No need for more butter in this muffin.

No need for more butter in this muffin.

All-in-all, if Aldi’s can get the proportion right in the batter/streusel mix, this would be one that I would buy again. Not on a regular basis–there’s a lot of sugar here, obviously, so if you’re low-carbing, this would be an occasional treat. And if you’re still on the low-fat bandwagon, you probably stopped reading when I said 1+ sticks of butter. But as an occasional treat for those of us who can’t indulge in our traditional breakfast carbs anymore, it’s worth a try.

muffin nutrition

House Hunting, Among Other Things

Three separate dreams, three nights running, about buildings.

Dream 1: I go into a large convention center. I know it is at a college or university, but I don’t recognize it (in waking time). In dream time, I know it is my school. Apparently I am a student there. I go into the lobby and it is empty.There is green indoor/outdoor carpet that looks like astroturf. I’m exasperated because they’ve taken the tables down and I’ve missed registration. I storm out.

Time passes and I come in again. I don’t know why, since registration (for what?) is over, but I do, and I go through the archway and I am in a library. A very large, very well-stocked, modern library. This must be a top tier school to have a library like this, with lots of modern art and gleaming chrome and skylights letting the light play on the carpet (no astroturf here).

I notice in the back there is a door to another room and I go in. It’s the graduate library! Why did I not know this was here? I am trying to find a book. I have the call number, and can remember seeing the numbers in my dream, but can’t remember them now (lots of 9s and 0s–so that would make it history or computer science. It’s Dewey Decimal, not Library of Congress). I am trying to find the shelf where the book is. It should be to my left, but as I go down the row, the shelf runs into the wall–and the numbering starts off at the beginning.

Now where the hell would that book be? I think. I realize off to my right is a beautiful old fashioned oak staircase. There is another skylight, and the sunlight is playing off the highly polished rail of the staircase. I think, The book must be upstairs! So I go to the staircase–and it does not come all the way to the floor! It comes down from next to the skylight, and about halfway down there is a landing where the stairs turn toward me. They come down and stop on top of a radiator case. Someone has placed an old captain’s chair up against the radiator so that they can use it as a step stool to get onto the first step. I think about climbing on it and realize I have on a dress. I think I should probably wait until I have a chance to come back in something that will not reveal my panties.

Dream 2: One of the women I work with has moved into the old rat trap house I lived in when I was in college. I am there, in the living room, as she is talking to her son. I think, Why on earth would anyone buy this hellhole? It’s so rundown it’s on the verge of being condemned. In the real world, the owner has been trying to sell this house for two years and no one will touch it.

I’m starting to walk toward the room where my roommate stayed when I realize the secret room is still there (there was no secret room in real life, but when I dream of the house, in my dreams, there are secret rooms. Some kind of interdimensional portal? Who knows.). I peek in and realize all the stuff my cousin stashed in the secret room is still there. I think, I have to track her down and tell her before they find the room and throw all her stuff out.

Dream 3: I am in the apartment where we lived right before we moved into this house. There is still a lot of my stuff there. I am surprised because I know someone moved in there right after we moved out. Apparently they have moved out and my stuff is now there. My mom is there and freaking out. How can you be storing stuff here when you don’t live here? How do you have a key when you turned it it? Can anyone get in here? People are going to steal your stuff.

I tell her it’s okay and I’ll start loading stuff in the car. I don’t seem concerned about this, but I have no idea why my stuff is there either. I should be concerned, because on a table near the door seems to be nearly all my photos and memorabilia from cons. Most of that is hanging up in the house now, so I am not sure why it would be in our old apartment. I am also finding a lot of hair stuff, like curling irons and such.

Three dreams of buildings, three nights running. Searching, Finding, Moving.


An Immortal Line?

I wake up and there is a fragment I can still see burned into my mind’s eye–my sweetie is behind a counter (he is a clerk in a store?), both hands on the counter, leaning forward looking at me with a look of concern. I remember the thought Everyone expects me to take care of them, but who takes care of me?

I’m awake, but not for long. I fall back asleep. I then dream I am in a meeting with my supervisor, who is giving me a briefing on new hires. He tells me that Adam’s grandson is now working for us. I think Adam as in the Bible. Then I have a flash of Burn Gorman. What is he doing there?

Next I am in the hallway of our house. I have a teeny tiny Bible in my hand and I’m trying to flip through the onion skin like pages (have you ever tried to read a miniature Bible–it’s so easy to tear the pages) to find the section in Genesis that talks about Adam and his children. I remember Cain and Able, but who was after that? Is the grandson Cain’s? Or is it Seth’s? And what was their name?

A teenage girl with long dark hair walks up to me and says “Gee, Mom, just take five minutes for yourself, sit in a chair, and try to read a normal size Bible.” So I guess this is my daughter. Then she starts teasing me about being a grandma and I think I’m not old enough to be a grandma. And then I realize she is trying to tell me that Adam’s grandson is my grandson. So I’m Eve? What? Lilith maybe, but Eve?

Then I wake up again. I can’t get the Burn Gorman bit out of my head? Is it Adam as in Torchwood Adam? Then I realize that Gorman’s character is named Adam on Forever. So the Adam lineage in the dream has something to do with immortals?

Apparently, the grandson of Adam in the Bible is Enos. No clue what that means yet.

Oh, and also, ENOCH? Now that is interesting.