I’m blessed/cursed with vivid dreams. Last night, for example, I dreamed that my best friend, Catherine, had a famous grandmother. Who was this famous grandmother? Why, the queen of England! Elizabeth II herself! In the thirty-two years Catherine and I have been friends, she neglected to mention that she was a princess. But it didn’t matter! I asked the queen if she had watched The Crown on Netflix. She had not, but I filled her in. Then I told the queen that my daughter was a huge fan, and could I take a selfie with her to send to my own Princess? Of course, the queen graciously agreed. Alas, I couldn’t find my camera or phone, and Elizabeth got irritated; did I know who she was, after all? Also, she and Philip wanted to go out for dinner, and then I got lost following them, until I found them and told the maître d’ I was with the royals, it didn’t matter that I wasn’t wearing pants.
The night before, I dreamed that my daughter had a baby named Rosie. The baby was very cute (obviously) and had black hair, just like the Princess did at her birth. Rosie was short for Rosita, which Dearest didn’t like because of a certain character on The Walking Dead. The other name being considered was Elsinore. Norrie, we could call her. We all pretended to like that one.
I have recurring dreams that Robert Downey, Jr. is in love with me. Those are excellent dreams, let me assure you. McIrish is conveniently absent in those, and Bobby tells me yes, he’s loved me forever, he wants to be more than best friends, and people, I am in. Now, if McIrish told me he had a dream like that involving Kate Winslet, I would be mad at him for the rest of the day. He’s more tolerant than I am, understanding that this is my job we’re talking about. Dear McIrish. Such a good hubby.
Sometimes I dream that we get an unusual animal for a pet. Otters show up frequently. Baby animals with the potential to outgrow our house—giraffes, elephants. In my dreams, we figure this out. Of course we do! We’re not the type to give anyone away.
Once in a while, I dream about someone who’s died. My dad, my grandmother, my Poppy. Those are always so comforting, like visits from the great beyond.
Small wonder I list napping as one of my favorite hobbies. : )