The Consequences of Dreaming

I saw a recipe for German pancakes yesterday at Salt and Chocolate. Hm, says I, that sounds good. So, I bookmarked it, and went about my day.

A day which included a child who did not nap until we were in the car to go to a farm to have a hayride and pick a pumpkin with some friends. A day which included a child slipping and falling into a rotten pumpkin, and having to go on the return hayride wearing nothing but a pull up. A day which was very late, and by the time we got back, I was no longer thinking of anything involving pancakes.

Or was I?

The last dream I recall from before I woke up was me wandering around Racher from Yestertime’s house looking for her, so I could ask if the skillet I wanted to borrow was oven safe. So I could make a German pancake.

FINE SUBCONSCIOUS, I GET IT. Although why my subconscious felt the need to bring Racher in on it, when I’m pretty sure she has never talked to me about pancakes, German or otherwise, I have no idea.

Regardless, I made a German pancake this morning, much to Brandus’ confusion (“What are you doing?” “IM MAKING A PANCAKE DAMMIT.”)

It was yummy. I tastes a little bit like funnel cake and a little bit like french toast.

Also, it’s insanely easy, which I am a huge fan of.