Last night I dreamt I was pregnant. That's not so strange because (1) It happens. (2) I recently learned a dear friend has a bun in her oven. And (3) a fellow female lawyer and I joked just yesterday that we should show up to the office on Halloween dressed as pregnant Erin Brockoviches. Because we're of the unmarried variety, and that's a little confusing around here.
But, ok, the totally whack part of the dream is that I was pregnant with... (
gulp) a cat.
A CAT!! Not only was I pregnant with a cat, but I actually gave birth to the cat. And imagine that I was actually all concerned that it would come out deformed because I'd been on the pill during its development. Nevermind a deformity, crazy sleeping self, it's A CAT! I don't know if I knew it was a cat all along, or if I only discovered it post-birth, but either way I don't remember being too perplexed by its furry four-legged form. Maybe I was even relieved (less responsibility)? To make matters worse, I suffered a bout of postpartum depression. I'm not making this up.
I've got one. Can you blame me? So simple. So cozy. So vaulted. So nooked. So paneled. So textured. So sky blue. So splashed with red. Oh, to have a little guest room like this in my nonexistent house. Is it weird that I can't stop looking and pretending I'm in it?
