Tall Drink of Nerd: Donuts Make Me Go Nuts
a blogumn by Amy Robinson
I keep having dreams about donuts. I’ll just wait here a moment while you get all the Freud jokes out of your system. Donuts in my dreams are copious, specific and there is not a hot dog or cigar in sight. One night I dreamt about mysteriously being sent a case full of Hostess Donut Gems, the crumbly kind that are a bit like coconut, but not really. Then I dreamt about eating fresh and warm, unfrosted cake donuts straight out of a machine I had in my kitchen. A few nights later, the star of my dream was a mixed dozen box of Krispy Kremes. My dream self dove, elbow deep, into the box and began downing plain glazed, raised with sprinkles and cream filled maple long johns.
We all know that a dream is a way for your subconscious to deal with things you aren’t dealing with in the real world. My interpretation here is literal. I want a donut.
Recurring dreams are not unfamiliar to me. I rarely have a dream once and let it float away. Most of my sleepy-time picture shows revolve around trying to befriend the girls in High School who laughed at me, or I get stuck in increasingly smaller caves as I try to get to work/school/awards ceremonies. These are pretty much straight-up literal interpretations too. Since the rise of Facebook, High School chicks have befriended me, but there is still that anticipation of blocking, or mocking even if it’s just left over, cruel-kid juju. As for the caves, that’s just perceived obstacles. I usually end up just flying over the problems, which makes a spectacular entrance, btw. I highly recommend flying into your next award ceremony.
But here come the donuts. Honestly, they just made me chuckle as I woke up. I mean, who dreams about donuts? I’m not on a particular diet, other than eating mostly fruits, veg and lean protein and not consuming gluten. My niece got a donut maker for Christmas, which automatically made me want a donut maker, because I covet cool stuff. But the dreams didn’t start then. I think the dreams began after we visited a gluten free bakery on President’s Day.
We only arrived about 20 minutes after they opened but the hipster lady in front of us had already wrangled the last donut. We did manage to snag some chocolate chip cookies and a slice of chocolate chip banana bread. But on our way out, we walked past a diner that is famous for an awesome sounding Maple Bacon donut. I was willing to do a little gluten for the cause, but unfortunately, the diner was closed for the holiday.
See, I’m not complex or repressed. I’m just a girl who was denied a donut. A girl who is now obsessing over where to get the perfect donut so I can satisfy the need in me. My question for you is twofold: How do you solve your dream dilemmas AND do you know where I can get a good donut?