“Dreaming permits each and every one of us to be quietly and safely insane every night of our lives.” ~William Dement
Over the last several weeks – and I’ve been hesitant to mention this because, my God, what will The People say – but over the last several weeks I have been privy to a string of interesting dreams. And interesting would be putting my nighttime REM party mildly. I awake not feeling refreshed and recharged but checking my phone and my surroundings to see if what had happened then was just a figment of my hyperactive imagination or reality. I’ve been fired very sternly and when that dream occurred on a Saturday, I awoke on Sunday at 6:30 AM ready to save myself and make a grocery list that consisted of Ramen Noodles and maybe a can of Spaghetti-O’s. I was sleeping at my mother’s house that evening and so I went up to her room to tell her my tale. That my boss had fired me and she agreed with him and because I was so angry that she agreed with him I didn’t want to speak to her and then I ended up moving out of my apartment – meanwhile crying because it’s a Recession and there are no jobs – so I could live with my cousin.
My mother just ‘mmm hmm-ed’ her way through my story only stopping to ask if her hair looked ok after using a new flat iron.
A few days later it happened again. Then again. And every few days or so I’d wake up, look around and force myself to believe that no, no, everything is just fine. And then last night was a doozy: My father and his long-term girlfriend (question: are they called ‘girlfriends’ when the people involved are over 60? What would the proper word for this type of relationship be?) had a baby. Seriously. A BABY. That wasn’t even the strangest part the part that threw me for a loop was when we (my boss, some other colleagues, my brothers and my cousin – trust me, none of these people would I host at a dinner party together. Oil and water and milk.) were at the hospital but the hospital was next to the mall. Not our mall, mind you, but some random mall that had a two story Ruby Tuesday that was like the size of a Macy’s. Also making an appearance in said dream were the IRS and my aunt who died last year. Joining me via telephone was my former boss now colleague and another colleague with whom I have a perfectly wonderful relationship.
If I could give names and composites of these people and how they do not intertwine I suppose it would all make far more sense to you. Because right now it is coming across as dreams usually do when told to a second or third party; which is a hearty ‘huh’. I mean what response can you have to a dream about a bunch of people you don’t know? But that isn’t my problem. Clearly these dreams are starting to become a problem for each morning I wake up with an anecdote. One should not have anecdotes come dawn about something that occurred between the hours of 11 PM and 6 AM. The only story that should come from ones mouth about that time of day should be about the amount of drool or the sheet crease impressions left on your cheek. Not about how clearly something in your head is completely out of whack.
I don’t know. Perhaps it’s the increase in medication? In lieu of being consumed by hypomania during the day I must experience extraordinary brain activity at night? Though I’m sure Freud would have something to say about why my boss continues to make an appearance in my dreams. Digression: I’ve told my boss about each one and he just laughs. Like ‘oh ho ho, Heather, you’re a special one’ and then goes about his day. But…and I keep saying but…I just wonder – out loud of course – what it all means. Then again I shouldn’t worry too much. They’re just dreams. Right?
It’s just a dream.
“Having mom friends keeps my ovaries in check”
“There’s a period of life when we swallow a knowledge of ourselves and it becomes either good or sour inside.” ~Pearl Bailey
One of my colleagues recently had a baby. Well he didn’t have a baby but his wife had a baby but you get what I mean. He works from home and with the newborn we have been meeting at his house. After our meetings I announce, “I’m going to hold your baby”. I pick up said newborn and talk to her in my baby voice, asking, ‘who’s the ‘cutest wittle baby in da world?!?’ I do this enough to get her – The Divine Miss E. – to eek out a half smile. I hold her until she gets creaky and cranky and pass her off to one of her parental units because far be it for me to get shrieked at for whatever babies get upset about. Air? Wind? Being looked at funny? Being looked at in general? AIR? Regardless little does my colleague know that though yes it is convenient to meet at his house the real reason – and I’ve been waffling back and forth as to whether or not I wanted to say this out loud – well, the real reason that I like to meet at his house is because there’s a baby at his house.
A baby. A little snuggly, cuddly baby. And as of late babies have had this odd affect on me. I see a baby and it feels like my ovaries and uterus are going mutiny. My lady bits are standing there ready to charge. Fists a-blazing ready to go. What it feels like is my lady parts are on PST and I’m on EST and currently our clocks ain’t synching.
Ya’ll I seem to have developed an intense biological need to procreate.
Mother. Fucker.
This is funny. As in HA fucking HA funny because my mother never had this need. I could mention all of this to her and she’d ask if I were high. She wasn’t all that into kids in the first place and then she had me and she realized, ‘Eh, they’re not so bad’ and so she had Garrett. Me? Oh ho ho. I will make this as short and sweet as possible but I recently told my friend Alana that I wanted to have a baby. Not today. God no but then I presented a very strategic time line not based on my life but on actual rational arguments. I expected to be laughed out of the restaurant and she actually told me that it was GOOD that I was thinking of this NOW and that it was GOOD that I am prepared in this way. And then she proceeded to point out all of the glorious things that parenthood brings. Like wiping someones ass and being woken up at 5 fucking thirty in the morning and that intense pain of loving some little bald person more than yourself. So much that your heart might explode.
Alana said that having a kid is something that you have to do without thinking. There’s no preparation. You just jump and hope there’s a safety net and you land. I’ve never admitted this as fully as I am right now. I’ve said it out loud and casually but I want that pain and torture. I’m shocked and obviously unprepared and no, this will not be occurring anytime soon. But! But. I want to jump because someway, somehow I know that it will be worth it.