You know how sometimes a simple question can lead to an unexpected story?

Well, when I was asked to share my favorite recipe, my mind immediately went to the other tale I did about the dream technician that many of you enjoyed.

I realized I had more to share about that strange world of dreams and time. So instead of a conventional recipe, I’m going to give you another slice of that reality-bending pie.

Consider this a sequel of sorts, or maybe a prequel – time gets a bit fuzzy in this line of work.

---

They found me through this dessert’s special recipe. Isn’t that wild? One minute I’m just a person with quirky taste buds, the next I’m being recruited to dive into people’s dreams.

It was just another Tuesday afternoon at Café Chronos. I remember checking my watch as I walked in – 2:17 PM. I always notice the time; it’s a habit.

The special of the day was something called “Tempo Tart.” The waiter described it as a “time-honored recipe with a modern twist.” I should have known then that something was off, but hindsight is 20/20, isn’t it?

When it arrived, it looked… ordinary. A slice of what appeared to be a lemon tart, garnished with a sprig of thyme. But as soon as I took a bite, everything changed.

My brain felt like it was working overtime. Like when you’re trying to remember something and it’s on the tip of your tongue, but multiply that by a thousand. Past stuff, present stuff, things that haven’t even happened yet – all mixed up.

It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, just really, really strange. Like, one second I was tasting the tart, and the next I was remembering my tenth birthday party when nobody came. Then suddenly I was thinking about a conversation I might have next week. All at once.

Time got weird. I looked at my watch. The second hand jerked back and forth, the minute hand spun randomly, and the hour hand rotated in full circles. Sometimes they all froze for a moment, then started their strange dance again.

That’s when she approached. A woman in a crisp suit, with eyes that seemed to see past the present moment.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?” she said, sliding into the seat across from me. “The way time unfolds on your tongue.”

I blinked, still reeling from the experience. “Who are you?”

“I recruit for dream technicians,” she said. “They navigate the subconscious, where time is fluid. And you, my friend, have just passed our screening test.”

I stared at the card, then back at my chaotic watch. It read 2:19 PM. Impossible.

The woman leaned in, her eyes sparkling with an impossible depth. “Tell me,” she whispered, “when did you fall asleep?”

“What? I’m not—” I started, but the words died in my throat as the café began to shimmer like a mirage.

“We’re in your dream,” she said, her voice echoing as if from a great distance. “I entered it to find you. That’s what dream technicians do.”

The world around us began to dissolve, colors running like wet paint.

“Remember the taste,” she called out as everything faded. “It’s your key to waking up!”

I jolted awake in my bed, the flavor of the Tempo Tart still lingering on my tongue, and a business card clutched in my hand.

---

Have a great weekend, everyone! And maybe keep an eye on your watch, just in case.

If you could taste time, what do you think it would taste like to you?