Week 11: We hates the dreamses… (apologies to Smeagol)

10 weeks, 5 days.

Ok, I’m getting really sick of these dreams. Yes, I know my body is riddled with hormones, but really…

Brain, I have news for you. There are some new rules:

1. All dreams, from now on, will be less believable, and less realistic. Unless they are awesome.
2. In fact, all dreams will now be more awesome. Do you hear me?
3. No more dreams about miscarriages. Really. I’m tired of waking up puzzled that I am, in fact, still pregnant.
4. No more dreams about former idiot bosses (non-idiot bosses can be excepted here). That was evil of you, and I don’t appreciate it.
5. No more dreams about people yelling at me and me not being able to fight back. Not fair. This is my least favorite dream, and you know it.
6. No more dreams about forgetting my passport when I’m at the airport about to go somewhere cool. This is my second least favorite dream, and you know it.

Any more sucky dreams will result in immediate punishment by watching sappy romantic movies and/or Bill O’Reilly’s ugly mug.