Last night, I had another interesting dream that I wanted to remember, so here is a blog post about just that!
For some reason, in most of my dreams, Michael is an inventor. Now, I have no idea what this means, or what it signifies, but this dream was no different--Michael invented a way for men to bear children. I am not certain on the details, because when the dream started, Michael was examining the subjects that had volunteered to be impregnated--Remy, my cat (the poor dear didn't "technically" volunteer so much as he was experimented on); my brother, Jarrod; a handful of men I know from just sight; and our friend, Dylan.
Now, I could NOT be more jealous--I wanted a baby soooo badly, but for some reason, I was unable to conceive at the time in the dream, which may be why Michael invented the method. So, I was living vicariously through everyone that was pregnant--anxiously awaiting Remy's kitten, pampering him like crazy.
They wouldn't let me watch the birth process because they said it would offend my delicate sensibilities, so I watched as one man after another went into the delivery room and came out with a sweet little baby. Jarrod went first, and came out with a tanned little boy that he named Nicky. Then some of the other men, till it was just Remy and Dylan left.
When Remy tried to have his kitten, he nearly died in the process, and was severely broken when he came back out--I had to nurse his kitten, who I named Garfunkel, and called Funk. This episode made me TERRIFIED of Dylan giving birth, so I stick Funk into my apron pocket and burst into the labor and delivery room to see Dylan reclining on an incredibly soft leather sofa, playing xbox while Michael and a couple of male nurses carefully removed an artificial uterus from underneath Dylan's shirt.
They hadn't seen me yet, so I watched from the shadows as they placed the fake womb on the surgical table, encouraging Dylan to make sounds of distress from the couch. They unzip the womb and carefully extract a perfect pink baby girl. When I gasp in outrage, they explain to me that they wanted women to stop using the "well, you didn't have to go through the pain of child birth!" argument, which meant that it had to look like the men experienced the same trauma we did, even though they don't have the proper "equipment".
Baffled, I asked what became of poor broken Remy, and Mike has the good grace to look sheepish. Evidently, when they were removing Funk from Remy's pouch, Rem got aggravated and scratched Mike, so Michael threw my poor kitty really hard against the wall.
I am just pissed, but they tell me that if I don't tell anyone, they will let me name the baby. Apparently I agree, because I name her Libby, and we never talk of it again.
**weird part--feel free to skip--Jarrod, Dylan, Remy, Michael, and I were sitting in the commons area on the beautiful, plushy orange sofas and chairs, and Jarrod and Dylan are discussing whether or not to breastfeed. Jarrod decides that he is going to hand little Nicky off to Julia to nurse, but as Dylan is divorced (Mike and I start in surprise, as he had never told us this before), he is going to have to breast-feed Libby himself. He starts asking me uncomfortable questions about what he would need to know, and what supplies he would need. Luckily, Mike chimed in "Good thinkin, Dyll--then you'll have a nice pair of sweater kittens to squeeze", and Dylan decides that he should PROBABLY formula feed.**
While we are hanging out, Jarrod and Dylan talk about what an amazing process it is--Jarrod says how much more he appreciates Julia more for the experience, Dylan saying how he never thought he would be a father. They both look to Mike, asking when he is going to birth his own offspring. Mike, in what cracks me up now, looked offended and said "why would I want to do that, ya queers? I GOT a woman to carry my babies". He was obviously teasing, and Jarrod and Dylan and Michael play fought for a while.
Mike wants to start getting people communicating, so he creates a social networking Internet site that automatically updates full renditions of people's activities if they sign up--for example, Barbara is on there, and it updates that she got a new haircut that she is not crazy about, and she went down to the creek to do some fishing with Kristie to wait until her hair grows back. Stuff like that.
On this site, you can purchase what the site has told you is the greatest merchandise ever from a mini mall that Michael built for me--there is a clothing store, and make-up counter, shoes, handbags...basically a mall for women full of ideas I had that had been cataloged to this social-networking site that Mike had a research team develop. So, even though they were my ideas, he made me pay for them. Jerk.
Well anyway, Michael was now rich--what with the man-pregnancy revenue, the Internet site, and my mall--but he has no idea what to do with all that money. So he naturally goes to my father, who teaches Michael the white-trash-millionaire lifestyle.
Mike buys a beat up, pedo-van that has places to sleep and eat and stuff, and he flies it over to Europe, where he, Jarrod, Amber, the kids, and I are going on a tour of Europe! Julia stayed home to take care of Nicky and Andrew, and Jud's working. We were driving to pick up Stella, but when we let Amber out to go to the restroom, she burned down the city (thus eliminating Stella's participation on the trip). We really wanted Dylan to go, and I offered to take care of Libby, but he didn't want to go since he hadn't been there since he and his wife got the divorce. So, my inventor Mike invents a video camera to follow Dylan around so we can always see what he is doing and so we can talk to each other while we're in Europe.
The time in Europe is the happiest of my life--Mike and I are never more in love, playfully kissing and snuggling and taking romantic walks. We drive to Paris, and Dylan gets really uncomfortable, which we think is weird, until he tells us that this is where Charlie lives.
Charlie is his ex-wife and she is hands down the most beautiful woman I have ever seen--long, dark, curly hair; beautiful brown eyes; slamming figure; fair white skin...and she is the sweetest woman ever. We never ask why they got a divorce, but she is several years older than Dylan. She invites us to her home for dinner--Dylan taught her how to professionally cook, and she was an AMAZING chef, but she only did that as a past-time--her main job was something that caused her to be very very rich.
Dylan was not pleased we were spending time with her, and logged on and off his computer screen quite frequently.
She told us the story of a boy she had once known who was named Roosevelt--not the president, obviously, that was his first name. He was a sweet little boy.
Charlie and I start talking about how we are going to start a lesbian relationship and people won't know if we're two gay guys, a man and a woman, or lesbians (Andie and Charlie). Mike, who had quietly watched this whole banter thing bellows "So, are you two gonna get naked and jump around, or what?"
And that's where I woke up--weird, right?!
