Zombies all night, writing all day

Last night I dreamed of being caught in a zombie apocalypse with Mr. Fuzzykins, but the moment that kicked it off is the bit that really tickles me.

So, in the dream me and Mr. Fuzzykins are living in an old clapboard house, very similar to the one I grew up in, but with more neglected gardening in the yard. For the second night in a row, I'm pregnant in the dream, and we decide to walk over to the nearby McDonald's (which, I must point out, I wouldn't actually want to eat if I were 1. awake, and 2. not pregnant). So we go and get our McWhatevers, and then I suggest that we also stop at Taco Bell (because what goes better with your Mickey Ds than a side of bean burritos or chalupas or other ridiculous fauxican food?) and Mr. Fuzzykins stands in line, orders, and doesn't ask me if I want anything. So, I do what any hungry pregnant woman would do - I burst into angry tears and storm out of there, yelling about how inconsiderate he is!

But, when I step out into the semi-mallish, semi-suburban neighborhood, it's clear that all hell has broken out...sort of. It actually looks like any low-income semi-urban neighborhood where nobody gives a shit and does stuff like leave the carts from the strip mall grocery store in the middle of the empty parking lot. But there is food around, and you don't really see that much.

At this point, we're so wrapped up in our own argument, we notice the mild chaos around the hood, but we don't really take it in. (Then again, if you were in the midst of a zombie apocalypse, would that ever be the first thing you'd guess as the explanation for odd human behavior? Probably not til you saw zombies eating people.) When don't even have a chance to resolve our argument before we get attacked by our first zombie and go running back to the house.

The dream got pretty elaborate from there... We fought off zombies, gathered supplies, took in some neighbors and thought we had weathered most of the storm...until we see a giant tour bus of very happy people pull up and start flooding the street in front of the house! As we and our crew of randoms look around like WTF, one of us decides to step outside and warn them about the zombies...

When whoever it is - not me - steps outside and gets their attention, they storm our house en masse and start eating people. So their response to the zombie apocalypse was more of an "if you can't beat em, join em"...and they decided to survive with cannibalism. Somehow, a number of us convince them to keep us alive and set up a sort of fortress in our neighborhood...

I just hope my child doesn't have to grow up in a commune of cannibals fighting off zombies. Either way, I wake up hungry.

In my waking life, I'm embarking on the most terrifying project I've ever taken on: a novel. Holy shit what have I gotten myself into?!

Today at the Planetarium

Maybe it was just the exhaustion of shuffling 18 kids between 4 and 13 years old on two trains, then through the Hayden Planetarium and trying to keep them quiet enough to hear the fraking voiceover, but when I hear - in the middle of Journey to the Stars - that we all have star material in us, I just can't help crying!

Even more tearjerking is the knowledge that I will be passing that star power into the form of my little alien. It gave me a hint of that thing that all parents talk about - the sense that when you have kid(s), you are part of the continuity of life. And not just humanity, but the universe and everything.

Meh, I'm sounding so momish already. Good thing I've got the boobs and starter-bump to prove it.

Light Space

Inspector Sophington

Every time I clean the apartment - which, admittedly, is not that often - the dog acts like I've ruined all the important fur shedding work she's been putting in since the last cleaning. She huffs around, looks dejected, and watches me resentfully. Afterwords, she walks the perimeter, sniffing intently in all the corners. 

I may be reading into it a bit, granted, but I find it particularly hilarious. Especially since I'm allergic, every time I clean I feel like Napoleon in Russia - totally helpless against the onslaught of forces (aka dog fur and dander) beyond my control - because we both know it's a battle I will always lose. 

Studies in Human Parasitism: Anxiety Dreaming

They say that pregnant women are way more likely to lose their shit, but so far that hasn't happened to me much...while I'm awake.

Ok so maybe last night I cried over the household chores, but I do that on a monthly basis anyway. Mr. Fuzzykins is like "hey, the sheets are in the closet where sheets go - isn't that 'put away'?" While I'm more the type to sort sheets into sets, stack them neatly, and have them ready to go when I need them...What? The nuance is lost on you, too? Well, then you are not anal. Congrats!

So my emotional life hasn't seemed way out of control to me. But my dreams have been fucking bonkers! Not only are they long, involved and unusually vivid, they are emotionally intense in a way that I've rarely experienced since childhood. And interestingly, they are often about deeply anxiety provoking things - either my personal and/or professional shortcomings (like night before last's train filled dream where my mom got mad at me for not fulfilling my promise as a writer), or about loss.

Lately the loss dreams have focused not on losing people to death or injury or things that are terribly sad but don't terrify me during waking hours, but about losing track of people, especially Mr. Fuzzykins. I usually wake up and have to look around and be certain that my waking life is as I left it - they're that convincing.

Last night's dream was almost hilarious, except that I woke up at the point where I was sobbing and trying to yell but unable to use my voice. 

Here's the setup: Mr. Fuzzykins and his BFF, and a woman who must've been BFF's wife (although her personage was not distinct in the way that some dream people can be) hop in the car to go to a barbecue joint I'm really excited about. It's unclear whether this BBQ joint is in Rhode Island or Delaware, but regardless, it's a place I've only seen while passing through and I've never been there before. When we get there, rather than being an authentic and mouthwatering rib shack, it has the plastic tables and faux jolly staff of a fast food joint, and I can tell from the second we walk in that the barbecue is gonna suck. So we have a powwow. Mr. Fuzzykins, who is even more a slave to his stomach than pregnant me, is all for staying and giving it a try. His BFF and BFF's wife are hungry, but happy to go along with the whims of the Hungry Pregnant Woman. So I talk Mr. Fuzzykins back into the car so we can go to another place I think I've seen from the train (oddly that is a reference from real life - a spot in Wilmington DE that looks a little sports bary but good) , but in the parking lot we run into my friend Melissa who's there meeting up with her bridesmaids, and you can tell because half of them are wearing ridiculous pink prom dresses. (That's one of the best things about dreams - I was actually in Melissa's wedding, and it was as unlike my dream of it as it is possible to be.) I stop to say hi of course, and get unintentionally swept into the pack of bridesmaids. When I look around for Mr. Fuzzykins, he's nowhere to be seen! I wander around the parking lot looking for the car, but it's gone. And then I walk through the restaurant - still, no sign. I reach into my pocket to get my phone, and instead of my iphone I find some gargantuan phone that is definitely not mine! Somehow I unlock it and try to dial Mr. F, but every time I try to plug in the numbers the phone takes me to another screen or quick dials a person I'm not trying to reach. At this point I start to get really upset. I try to make my way through the multiplying bridesmaids to Melissa so she can help me dial the number, but I can't seem to make her understand what's happening. Then a girl comes over and claims the gargantuan phone that, it turns out, is hers. I ask for mine in return - thinking maybe we'd switched - but she doesn't have it and after a search through all the bridesmaids cars, I can't find my phone either! By now I'm really alarmed. So much so that I am sobbing uncontrollably and crouching on the ground. But now - as if things could get any worse - the troop of bridesmaids, with Melissa at their core, start to shuffle into the fast food barbecue place. And as I try to yell after her, I realize I can't muster more than a whisper because my throat is so parched from crying!

This is when I wake up, look over at the real Mr. Fuzzykins in our bed, and then rush to the bathroom. Because peeing all the time is a real thing that happens - don't wait to find the dream-bathroom, it's too late then.

Studies in Human Parasitism: Hongry, Hangry, Tigry

Latest news from the alien invasion:

1. my boobs are GINORMOUS! it's awesome having a spectacular rack.

2. my belly is keeping pace (poo!), but I get to walk around with my gut hanging over my belt with pride and singing "I don't think you're ready for this belly" over and over in my head.

3. I am hungry all the time! (hence, the belly) And there are three variations of hungry. 

Hongry: So fucking hungry that I can eat a cow, or two. 

Hangry: So fucking hungry that I'm soul-strippingly angry and cruel to everyone who gets between me and the aforementioned cows.

Tigry: So fucking tired and hungry that I have a headache, feel depressed, and have to lie around for several hours watching crap TV on the Internet while I debate between eating and sleeping.

4. Y'know, you actually don't have to buy into the insane fear-mongering and obsessive materialism that is modern day baby culture. If I could head out into the woods and pop this sucker out, I would. But for now I'm just thankful to the doula I talked to yesterday who basically debunked all the "Oh you really must ....!" And one visit to Babies R Us gave me and Mr. Fuzzykins hives and heart palpitations...cloth diapers, minimal stuff, and homemade toys all the way!