I keep having dreams involving hot dogs. Stop giggling, I know what Freud would say about that – but they’re not like that. The other night I had a dream that I had a brand new baby hot dog. In the dream it was just a baby and that’s what babies look like, and it wasn’t until later when I woke up that I realized “oh that was a hot dog.” I swaddled my little baby-dog in tin foil and paper and cooed and ah’d over it and it wasn’t until it dawned on me that this thing hadn’t cried or gotten hungry that I started to worry. I unwrapped the tin foil and poked at the “baby,” which felt extremely cold, and realized I don’t know how to tell if my hot-dog baby is alive or dead but this one certainly wasn’t hot. So I called 911 and screamed about my poor cold hot dog and went to the roof to have a good sob.
Less upsetting was my other dream, where Jessie moved from New York to live with me in my parents’ and we had a hairless weiner dog for a pet (one of these
not one of these.
But it had no hair, so it sort of did resemble that second picture.
Maybe this is a case of oversharing…
LATE ADDITION – Jessie read this blog post and shared this picture with me.
Absolutely too perfect. Thanks Jessie!
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