Morning of August 14, 2014. Thursday.
The first part of the dream has something to do with separating junk mail from real mail. Part of it also involves a small stack of A4-sized order forms and I believe at least one catalog. I am not sure of the location though it has some aspects of my sister’s kitchen, but is a larger room.
For some reason, I decide to make pink-frosted donuts, which has something to do with a baking kit (actually a set of several, each in a different package) with the ingredients and such having arrived in the mail that day, though my wife and I had apparently gotten these shipments for free, possibly by an oversight of the company (though perhaps a promotion that was incorrectly duplicated a few times to the same address). There is also an ambiguous idea that they may turn out to be soft sandwich cookies instead, and with vanilla frosting in the middle. I am trying to work out, when putting them in the rectangular baking tin, if there is going to be enough for a six by two arrangement or an eight by two arrangement. There seems to be only enough dough for seven and the different parts of dough are uneven. My sister (Marilyn, now deceased) makes a comment about how I am not doing it correctly, which is somewhat annoying. I put the dough all back together to start over and there also seems to be icing mixed in by that point, even though I had not yet actually had it out.
Trying to place the individual donuts into the tin again results in a problem. There then seems to be thin, larger, randomly shaped rusty pieces of the baking tin flaking off from the bottom (reminding me a little of what happened to my thermos in primary school years ago) and getting mixed into the dough - but at that point it does not seem to matter as much as another illogical problem. There are now seemingly a fair number of pre-made small and thin disc-like sections (reminding me a little of miniature communion wafers, I suppose - though I never saw any in real life) of tougher dough all mashed together in one corner of the tin, seemingly enough for at least a dozen or more smaller sandwich cookies. They were apparently supposed to be placed singularly (followed by a layer of icing and an additional “disc” for each) but now would be hard to separate. Most of the icing has now ended up in one blob mixed with other pieces of dough. I am more annoyed.
After a short time, the dough actually seems baked even though I had not yet put it in the oven. I inform my sister that the would-be donuts are too much like light cake in texture at this point. Somehow though, the contents of the tin go back to how they were before the other events happened. I get so annoyed that I catapult the contents of the tin into a mostly empty dumpster outside.
I start two other sessions of attempts to make these things, figuring that if one goes wrong the other may still turn out. (I still do not know if I am making pink-frosted donuts or white cream sandwich cookies.) I mentally cause butter to form at the bottom of each tin (oddly, without realizing you cannot just imagine things to materialize into a baking tin in real life), a lot of it in fact (but uneven in placement), so that when the dough is placed (also materialized mentally by this point as if I am teleporting the contents of the unopened remaining kits and using telekinesis to shape the dough after separating it into smaller parts), I soon, after not being satisfied with how much is in each uneven piece, once again start over with the mashed dough and it eventually changes into a darker and darker color, with apparently too much oil mixed in, by which I am sure may affect the taste and probably result in a health issue. I continue, though, but once again start to get annoyed before the dream loses cohesion.
Thus this turns out to be a typical non-lucid “nothing works for a step by step task” dream because of dreams often refusing to form into a proper continuity or chronological cohesion or stability in general (due to critical-thinking and common sense usually being defunct in most types of dreams), which I find somewhat amusing in afterthought as a major lucid trigger failure.