Among the negative aspects of waking up every few hours to feed a baby, you find yourself more likely to send poorly thought out emails or nod off and drive into a tree. It could be pure luck that the car and my reputation are still intact. At least as intact as they were before the baby*. Knock on wood.
On the upside, having your dreams interrupted means that you remember more of them. From this I have learned that I have strange dreams. Take last night. I was in a group from GI Joes who met some leaders from COBRA at an airport for some sort of board meeting and a presentation by I don’t remember who, maybe one of the red vipers who fly the little Terrordrome planes. For some reason I arrive late in the meeting room and take an open chair at the table between some young women who work for COBRA. They give me side eye while another young woman walks up and tells me that she was sitting there. Not wanting to make a diplomatic incident out of it, I get up and then find out that it was the LAST. CHAIR. AT. THE. TABLE. The overflow seating seems to be a couch with some teenagers on it. WTF, I say, I AM WOLVERINE, because apparently I am, and YOU DO NOT SEAT WOLVERINE ON A COUCH WITH JUSTIN BIEBER AND THE INTERNS. On top of that, I mutter to some other Joes a little too loud, it is ridiculous that COBRA should give plum seating to the typing pool. This seemed unfair and a little misogynistic as they most likely had important jobs at COBRA and just like to sit together, but Wolverine is an old guy and deserves a little slack for that stuff.
Next I remember Julia Roberts, who apparently also works for GI Joe, in her office trying to talk the same young woman out of her life of crime. Look at you, Roberts says, just out of college and working for COBRA. Is that what you want to do with your life? Funding terrorism? Dealing guns? Spreading evil? Cooking me pot? In response the young woman pulls out a bag of brownies and Roberts gives her ten bucks. Then the baby woke me up.
Chat about anything, including but not limited to what Freudian, Jungian and/or New Age dream interpretation methods would say about my subconscious.
(*) We have a garage in an alley which makes backing straight out not an option. Instead you have to turn an awkwardly tight arc while pulling in or backing out. Anyhow SOMEone, and I am not pointing any fingers, keeps dinging our front bumper on the side of the garage door during the entry/exit maneuver and blames it on me even though there are two of us and I am pretty sure I cannot remember ever having done that.