I’ve been having a lot of dreams lately where people are scolding me for not knowing something.
A few days ago I dreamt that I saw Cavan drive past the house in a black Honda Accord. It was a nice looking, older model, really shiny. I waved at him and asked when he’d gotten the car. “Everybody knows!” He said. “I’ve had it forever.”
Then, the other night, I was dreaming that I saw my manager Sarah coming out of the laundry and tan place in Broad Ripple. “Out to do some laundry?” I asked. “Did your washing machine break?”
“Um, nooooo,” Sarah said with an eye roll. “I’m going tanning.”
“Oh. That’s not very good for the baby, is it?”
“It’s fine,” she told me. “I’ve already been twice today.” She said it like she was very proud of herself.
Again I mentioned that this might not be good for her fetus, and she snapped that she had to get a good base tan.
If you know Sarah, you’d know how ridiculous this is. When I told her about the dream the other day she cracked up. She’s very down-to-earth, into herbs and homeopathy, will probably make her own baby food, a modern hippie. Not at all the kind of person who pays money to lay in a tanning bed.
This afternoon my friend Liz and I have plans to get lunch and see Megan at Metamorphosis for a consultation. I’m not sure if Liz will get a tattoo before Megan pops this kid (I think she’s due in just a few weeks. There must be something in the water), but there’s a part of me that wants to talk with her about getting something a little more extreme done. I probably shouldn’t, because I know it’s the part of me that wants to shock people, especially at the upcoming high school reunion.