I had intended to make love in my garden and drive my cat between two candles in celebration of Beltane, but we. are. sick. We are so sick, that I just woke up from a six hour nap in which I had the first fever dream I’ve had since I was four.
I’m trying to do the mommy bit. Last nigh, when it became apparent that we were both quite ill, I brewed tea into the teapot and set out pitchers of orange juice and water on the nightstand in the bedroom. Then I made a pot of chicken soup and set it next to the other liquids.
We didn’t touch any of it. I dunno why, it always worked when Mom did that.
At any rate, I did manage to get out of the house and buy stuff for the garden in honor of May Day, so now my tomato is proudly caged (and the bearer of three or four mini-tomatoes), my lavendar is blossoming, everything has been fed plant food and I planted cat grass and cat nip for my chives-eating furball, who has been featured prominently in here as of late.
In my fever dream, I was eating frozen pudding and watching MTV cribs on our miraculously restored television. An old high school friend of mine emerged from our back bathroom with a new infant, having delivered it in the bath tub. I spent the bulk of the dream cuddling the infant and showing her the shooting stars outside while debating whether or not to call an ambulance. Mother and baby LOOKED fine, but I didn’t want anything to go unnoticed. The dream ended when Tim Robbins showed up, smiling with a gold-capped tooth. I made him carry in our bookshelf which had been escaping through the front door with great, unnerving regularity through the course of the dream.
I woke up and asked Josh if we had any Jell-o pudding pops.