In this dream she wasn't the only one eating: everybody was stuffing themselves at the table. Babushka brought out plate after plate, and Artemis and the dream-griffons downed goblet after goblet of what was apparently an endless supply of heated wine. It didn't taste like wine, instead being some kind of metallic brew, and the tonic was surprisingly only lukewarm despite the steamy vapors that emerged whenever somepony used the dispenser.