Reubens Dream

Filed under: “Late-Night Snackmares”
Paris, But Probably Also Space
Status: Lightly sugared, emotionally overwhelmed

I dreamed I was floating.
Not in water, or a cloud, but in a buttery bortex ob carbs and delight.

There were croissants spinning like galaxies. Pain au chocolat drifted past me, glistening like comets. Danish swirls, strawberry tarts, little flaky things I couldn’t even name but I knew I loved them. I clutched a cookie like a life raft. It smelled like home.
And banilla.
And lub.

I don’t remember falling asleep. One minute I was brushing the crumbs off my whiskers from a real-life raspberry tart, and the next… boom, pastry cosmos.

Fish says dreams are a way ob your brain sorting fings out.
Baxter says dreams are where the heart fros parties.
Barry says he once dreamed he was a popsicle and woke up under a blanket.
Dougie says the spiral motion is “time logic.” (He’s not wrong.)

In the dream, I wasn’t scared. Just hungry.
And safe.
And completely, thoroughly surrounded by the fings I love most:
flaky layers, rich fillings, and the feeling that maybe, just maybe, life is as sweet as it seems.

When I woke up, I wrote down this important note for myself:

“Tomorrow: get more chocolate croissants. Maybe two. Just to be sure.”

—Reuben xoxo