Magic Milk at My Father's House

Funny Dream last night. I was visiting my father's house! He lived in Riverside next to a farm where there were milk cows. It was a dump, of course.



He seemed like a Vietnam vet who was so shell shocked he couldn't really live life happily anymore. Dennis and I and you and others were staying with him. There was a party at one point and then I discovered in the kitchen that there was magic milk. The milk never spoiled and there were milk based desserts all over the kitchen that were still perfect after 50 years! Creme brulee, flan, all these white and gold desserts. Then I knew I could cook any of them perfectly because of the perfect milk.


The perfect milk came from pipes and machines and things on the walls. Like if you were in the basement of a big old building and there were pipes crisscrossing along the ceiling and walls, that's how it was. The pipes were painted white and I could make out old time designs on the containers hanging on the walls. Like some were from the Mesopotamian world and made of clay with Isis or Ashtar engraved and some were from Quakers in the new world.

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