I woke up today at 1:36 pm to the sound of pre pubesent chuckling from the room mate next door. I tried despratly to stay asleep. Brian had already left and I was struggling my way through a confusing dream. I had a dream that I had a baby, a real life 9 lb 4 oz baby. A baby that chuckled when I tickled it, cried for me when I let the room, fell asleep in my arms. I held it's head as I put it to rest.
And then all of a sudden I had a green gummy bear that somehow represented the baby. I took a bite for some reason and then I flipped the fuck out because I thought I had just eaten the head off of my baby, the same head that I had just carefully laid to rest. It was now in my stomach. I knew I shouldn't have read that article about the naked man eating some guys face off.
I spent the rest of the dream scrambling aorund asking people if they knew what I had just done "Is this normal, was I supposed to do that? Is that part of parenting? Will it grow back?" were some of the questions I bombarded random middle class folks in the background of my brains atmosphere.
I tried to stay asleep to make sure the baby grew back. I waited aorund day and night for what seemed like weeks but were merely a few minutes. It's head never grew back, and I decided to wake myself up from this awful dream, not to mention the giggling room mates weren't making the dream less easy to escape.
It was haunting though, to hear them. I couldn't, for some reason, stop thinking about what I had done. I knew it wasn't real, but I'm talking about those very few first moments when you wake up and your questioning weather or not that dream about you becoming a witch was really true and if your cat can actually talk. For those first few moments of this morning I wanted to ruin the laughter, I thought they were laughing at my loss, but thankfully the moment lasted only 4 seconds, tops.
Instead my head filled with my inner parent waiting at the front door for me to come home, only the parents in my head are waiting for me to come back to sobrity until they start to yell at me, reminding me of the fool I really am.
"I can't believe you said that to her, what were you thinking? I hope she doesn't remember" and " God I hope he doesn't think I meant to do that, it was totally an accident" or my favorite, the ever-so confiding parent "your such a fucking dumb ass, how do you have friends?"
Luckily I didn't really do anything last night, so when I tried to catalogue through the recent events, no evidence was collected, but it was replaced with other evidence from the night before last.
I scanned my room for any trace evidence of an attempted disaster, none taken. Only empty 40 oz bottles cuddled around various chairs along the room and my clothes from the day before.
I eventually got myself up, but all day this dream has been getting to me, and for lack of embarrassment if I had told someone else, I told you instead. Keep it a secret, and let's never talk of it again. I hate being good at that.