Buttercream Dreams

I'm a dreamer.  No, I'm not walking around with my head in the clouds, wearing love beads and singing Kumbaya.  I dream when I sleep.  Vivid, realistic dreams.  Not every night, but often.

I still remember dreams I had as a teenager.  Once I dreamt I was at my town's swimming pool.  It was a place where I spent lots of awake time, so it wasn't odd I would dream I was there.  Except in my dream I had on a full length fur coat.  Everyone one else was splashing and swimming and tanning; and there I was, walking around in my coat.  In my dream it was not odd or unusual.  It just was.

For a good while now my dreams revolve mainly around food.  Not just any food.  Decadent, sugary, sinful, forbidden food.  In my dream I'm eating cake, or cookies, or some sweet treat.  I'm not sad or glad; not wallowing in guilt or giddy with excitement, just methodically eating.  I am aware of the taste of it.  In my dream it tastes just like it does in reality. 

When I wake up for a moment I'm confused and a little panicked.  Did I really just eat that cake?  It seemed so real.

Perhaps you're thinking I should just eat the cake, or cookies, or whatever, and maybe these eating dreams would stop.  It's not that easy.  If you know me, you know sweets are my kryptonite.  Sweets are my addiction.  Sweets are to me as alcohol is to an alcoholic, as heroin is to an addict.  It's my drug.  I'd mainline it if I could, and not weigh 300 pounds.  There is no such thing as a bite or a sensible portion of a sweet to me.  It leads to a binge and that is no dream, it's a nightmare.

So let me sleep as sugarplums dance in my head.  My buttercream dreams are delicious sleep.  Sweet dreams.