Dreams of Goats

Early this morning, I had a dream. And not of the MLK variety, although that's an excellent dream.

Anyway, I had a dream involving a girl who was one of my best friends when I was a freshman in high school. She moved away at the end of that year, and although we wrote for a few years, it's been way more than 20 years ago that I knew where she was. In my dream, we come in contact again, and I go to visit her. She has 6 (!) children, including a set of toddler twins, which is very scary to me because I've been done having babies for many years now. I do have friends who are approximately my age who have children young enough to not be in school yet, and I just can't imagine being there, but different people have different circumstances. (And I digress.)

So, I'm visiting my friend and there's a crate in the living room, the kind that you keep rambunctious pets in during the day while everyone's at work or school. But there's not a dog in the crate; there's a very small goat, like one of those little pygmy goats. It's approximately the color of a caramel candy. There's noise coming from the crate, and my friend asks me to open it. I do, and the little goat comes out and starts pressing his head very hard into my arm and trying to get into my lap (I'm sitting on the floor for some reason, but I'm not sure why). My friends says the goat likes a cuddle when he wakes up. And then the goat makes a noise. Normally goats bleat, sort of like sheep, but this one speaks. Not well, but definitely words. It says "love goat, hug goat." I hug the goat and it's nice.

And then, at 5:33 a.m., the phone rings, I wakt up and the dream is gone, and I have no idea what happens next.

Fucking telemarketers. I don't know why I bother being on the No Call list; it's useless.