Last night I had a pregnancy nigthmare. What is it about those? You're standing in a clinic, despairing about how you're going to deal with its fetal alcohol syndrome, thinking, "This must be a dream. This must be a dream. I'm not even that big! Couldn't it be gas?" when you look at the ultrasound and think, "You wish it were a dream. But didn't you learn your lesson from that last pregnancy nightmare you had; the one where you had the baby because you'd just forgotten to get an abortion? And you kept having to rifle through all the crap on the floor to find its birth certificate because you couldn't remember what you'd named it? Get insurance already!" And then you wake up, briefly, and clutch your pregnant belly and realize it wasn't a dream, before slipping back into a REM haze of wishing it were all a dream and wishing you could drink and sobbing uncontrollably before stopping only to realize that you'd just forgotten you were pregnant again and (doh!) opened a beer.
Anyway, I bring this up because it's Halloween (and duh, terrifying) and speaking of nightmares, someone sent us these pictures of fake marzipan babies that reminded me of the little feet and hands the pro-life club used to like to wear on their charm bracelets back in Catholic school before everyone got knocked up and/or discovered Stephen Hawking, but also because I don't think we've discussed the topic of the unplanned pregnancy dream. Specifically: can pregnant women get them? Why are they always so incredibly real and lifelike and harrowing, second only to the dream in which you lose all your teeth and can't afford to get fakes? And if they're really supposed to pertain to your "art" or whatever the dream recognition guys say, what the fuck does it mean if you HAVE NO ART?