Truth be told, I never really had crazy dreams when I was pregnant. Okay, except for the whole Eddy Murphy handing me a baby in the ocean one.
One night last week I had a dream that I have to relate here. Because it was ridiculous.
In the dream I was at Tom Brady's house that was somewhere in the suburbs of Boston. We had quite the conversation, Tom and I about his boys, especially his newborn. Then we took a tour of his apple orchards where we discovered that the Oakland Raiders had picked all the apples off of his trees and sliced them in half as a way of trying to intimidate him before the upcoming weekend's game. Feeling badly for poor Tommy, I offered to make pies out of all of his apples and got a wheelbarrow to collect them. Then, I was inside the house hangin' with Giselle and we talked about losing the pregnancy weight. She commented that it was her goal to get down to 1500 pounds. I said I thought she meant 115 pounds but she insisted she meant 1500. Somewhere along the line I started to wonder where Ben was because he would be far more interested in talking to Tom about football than I was about apples.
Then I woke up.
I could not make this shit up if I tried.
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