inkgrrl's inkblog

I dreamt that I was pouring Arabic coffee into the gorgeous little Persian carpet coffee cups I keep stashed above my refrigerator.  The first cup bled tea out the bottom, though I could have sworn I poured in the richly dark cardamom-infused stuff of life, not the glowing honey mint-infused stuff of life.  The cup wasn’t cracked, it simply lacked proper glazing across the bottom, which the set in real life does not, as it’s entirely glazed porcelain.  I remember making pouty-face (hey, it was a dream, I can pout in dreams) and pouring into the next cup, which held as it should.  But I was denied the taste – I woke up just as I was raising the cup to my lips, breathing in the dark spice but not yet burnt.