(see gluten-free dreaming, part I)
In a dream I visited and old house, filled with secret nooks and passageways. The girl who inhabited this house was a warm host with a comforting nature, and had filled all of it's spare corners with freshly baked bread.
While descending a swirly flight of stairs I found, tucked into the wall beside a stained glass window, a small cubby filled with baguettes. Each of the baguettes had been cleanly sliced in half, and a slight steam grew from their puffy innards. Staring at that faint fog, I, forgetting for a moment who I was, took a hearty piece of baguette in my hands and bit off a piece of the soft, crispy dough.
Next thing I knew I was in the bathroom, rinsing the offending crumbs from my mouth.