lucyoncolorado

Fragments again, but more sleep.

In which I suddenly have a baby...

I'm sitting in the living room of my childhood home with my mother and with K. I have a blond, light-skinned newborn on my shoulder. I'm trying to hold the baby girl in a way that supports her little neck, but her head keeps slumping over. I express my surprise at having the baby. My mom is trying to convince me that it is my child. I tell her that I have no memory of giving birth. She says that is because I was heavily drugged. I respond that I have no memory of the pregnancy either. K says, "Don't you remember when your water broke?" And I do.

I'd been sitting on my couch in my current adult home. K and H were in the living room with me. My belly was swollen with pregnancy. Out of nowhere, my water broke and flooded the living room. K and H put on waders and carried me out to the car.

"I remember," I tell them and accept that this child is mine. I'm still confused about who the father is since the child has such a light complexion. I start to ask about this when I hear the kettle whistle.

I walk back into the kitchen (still exactly like the kitchen in my childhood home) and prepare a bottle of baby formula. K lectures me that I should be breastfeeding. I admit that it would be best for the baby, but I tell her there is no way I'm going to do such a thing. She says I'm being selfish and I concede that I am.

Then the baby says, "mama I'm hungry." K and I are amazed that a newborn is speaking so well.

In which R has a camera that shows the user's perception of objects and people...

I'm back in my current home. R and I are sitting in the dining room. I still have the baby but she is older now and sitting on the floor next to the snake plant in the corner of my dining room. R shows me a new camera that he bought. The user takes a picture of something and then looks at the screen to see an image of what the user really thinks about the subject of the photo. He demonstrates by taking a picture of our backyard. We look at the viewer and see a beautiful and wild jungle, green with life and full of birds. I take a picture of the baby. We look at the viewer and see a monkey. I know this is true. I don't really care about the baby. She seems like an alien creature and I have no feelings of attachment to her. I don't know where she came from and I'm still confused about how I ended up with a baby. But at the same time, I feel really guilty about being such a bad mother. I'm embarassed that the camera exposes my lack of feeling for the child so I try to argue with R that it is not working properly.

He suggests that I test it out by taking a picture of Lucy, our dog. I point the camera at her and click a picture. Then I look at the viewer to see a happy, cheerful dog with little digital hearts rising out of her. I love my dog more than the surprise baby. I shrug my shoulders and admit it's true.

In which I purchase a coffee table from the local antique store and discover a treasure trove...

R and I walk Lucy down to the local antique store to pick up the coffee table. The owner has a dog too, and we all step out to the garden behind the store to let the dogs run around and play. She shows me a back room where she has stored the coffee table. Then she returns to the front desk and leaves R and me outside.

While we are examining the coffee table, I notice a secret door in the floor. I look inside and see a treasure trove of gold coins and jewels. We marvel at it and then shut the door.

We go to the checkout counter to pay and I hand the lady 75 dollars in cash which is the deal we'd made for the table. She charges me 100. I ask why she is charging so much, and she says that she has added on a 20 dollar fee to support local businesses. I tell her that I just want to pay the 75 that we'd agreed upon. She rings me up again with the correct amount, but now she looks sullen. She makes me feel guilty for not supporting local businesses.

I know the math doesn't add up, but it did in the dream.