moved: gusin08.wordpress.com

in her pregnancies, carole has, er, vivid dreams. i’ve already mentioned the problems with post-dexter nightmares; she’s also had to cease reading crime novels (one of her favorite pre-sleep activities), because of the scary dreams they’ve inspired.

today i’m thinking i need to put her back on the scary stuff. see, she has this tendency while pregnant to have somewhat romantic dreams, which is all well and good as long as i’m involved. but, of course, i’m not. when she was pregnant with mairin, it was swimmers (yes, plural — two, to be exact): two long, lean, muscular, speedo-clad michael phelps clones shining with chlorinated water, glowing with good health and unselfconscious masculinity. fortunately for her, i have a healthy sense of the distinction between dream life and waking life (unlike natalie imbruglia), so we joked about it for months: “what are you gonna do, run off with your swimmers?” “my swimmers wouldn’t say such things to me.”… and so on.

but the other night she may have crossed the line. i may not be able to handle this one. she’s outdone her dream self, and easily trumped the two swimmers and any other dream dalliances she may have wisely kept quiet. she had a version of every regular guy’s worst nightmare (fill in the madlib and see how close you get): his girl is swept off her feet by [famous heartthrob] and doted on and adored by said heartthrob in [unattainable romantic destination].

the correct answers? orlando bloom (this one, not the fey legolas). paris.

grrrr.

on the other hand, in the dream he broke up with her (his parents disapproved), and then kept showing up to have the same tormented, torturous, post-breakup conversations over and over again. maybe, deep down in her dream, she could hear me snoring and felt bad. yeah, that’s it. she felt bad. about orlando bloom. right. that’s my story, and i’m stickin’ with it.

new kid’s great, by the way, and still “new kid,” until i (or carole) get a flash of naming inspiration.