let me tell you about my dreams
When I was a little boy I dreamed vividly. Mostly terrible visions. Roller coasters to hell. Laughing monsters. Cannibal giants.
As an adult those anxieties ceased. I don't remember my dreams as frequently. They fade, like everything else, as the days turn to weeks and the weeks into months and everything becomes a blur of brief anticipation, occurrence, and limited reflection. Night time is functional. I don't even like sleeping.
let me tell you about a dream I had in 2016:
I was in a library. The sort of rich library I live near - one with so much private investment that it has a glass atrium that seems to touch the sky, letting natural light illuminate the books. Books look better in sunlight. But I wasn't there for books. I was weighing a sophie's choice: would I purchase the Cherry Oreos, or the Wild Cherry Oreos? I couldn't decide. I couldn't taste them: I do not eat in dreams. I started to cry. I'd waited so long for a Cherry flavored Oreo, and now I was faced with an impossible decision.
I woke up in a sweat, you know. It happens. I never got my Cherry Oreos ( unless you count the god-awful Cherry Cola Oreos. You shouldn't ). In my waking hours I've imagined other flavors. Peach. Green Tea. Blueberry (not pie). Those desires come true sometimes: Key Lime Pie, S'Mores, that sort of thing. I've been at this for a decade, and thus far only Cherry and a good Coffee flavor have eluded me. Recall that 2017's Mocha Oreos were so disappointing I stopped reviewing for over a year? It is what it is.
I don't dream at night as often anymore.
To be honest I had no idea what Tiramisu was before hearing about this Oreo. My wife disrespects that deficiency. It's fine. These Oreos are basically Nabisco's way of marketing a full-sized version of their (fantastic) Latte Thin, with an added bit of vanilla creme to cut the cappuccino flavoring. It is a good goddamn cookie, made for me and packaged into $4 Limited Edition blue plastic. My brother dropped off two packages of Tiramisu Oreos on my doorstep at 2am one night. I was eagerly anticipating them. A bright light in a frustrating time.
Every night for the past six weeks I have fed my one year old son an Oreo after dinner. At the start of our lockdown I had my brother pick up a selection of flavors of him to try. Mint, Lemon, Dark Chocolate, and Regular. All proved popular (why not?). There is therapeutic benefit in watching your son eat an Oreo. Each cookie is the size of his hand. I can eat five in a sitting. He takes five minutes to eat one, bit by bit.
He has a word for them - 'na na na na.'
Sometimes he breaks his oreo in half. Sometimes he eats the cookie first, sometimes the opposite. One such time he let the klump of creme slide out of his mouth in one green minty mess which he then ate anyway. Sometimes it breaks in half and he loses a piece down his high chair, only to find it later after we've already removed the tray and washed his hands. He smiles when he does that. He smiles when he hears me opening the package, because he knows. When he doesn't get a cookie, he screams. I don't blame him.
The evening after my brother dropped off the Tiramisu Oreso off I fed some to my son, unsure whether he would like the taste. They're not strong - still sweet - but different. It was clearly his most favorite. The creme is slightly softer than other varieties of Oreo, probably due to the dual-creme nature. His dessert time was messier. He was so happy. His cheeks were covered in creme and cookie.
na na na na. let me tell you about my dream.
