I was at a friend's house sitting in their dining room. I remember holding something like a brush and I was painting what appeared to be crackers. They kept breaking as I held the corners as I painted them. The paint was thick, almost like cheese. People kept remarking what a wonderful job I was doing. As I continued my buddy's sister let out a whoop running to the side window. It was her father returning home. I looked out too and saw him driving his car up the driveway. Someone had painted it just as I was painting the crackers. The paint also looked like cheese, very streaked and crumbling where it had dried out in places. The crackers I was working with were to be eaten for supper.