Alayna has been coming over for Friday night dinners at my house.

This is a big deal you guys because Alayna and I live pretty far away from each other as far as NYC neighborhoods go and we rarely get to veg on each other’s couches as best friends are supposed to do. However, Alayna is going through a lot of things right now that involve lots of her cash. (Upcoming wedding! Starting grad school!) So she’s all, WE SHOULD HANG OUT! and I say YEAH! And she says EXCEPT I CAN ONLY DO FREE THINGS! So a few weeks ago, I told her we could go for a walk (free!), go for a walk and talk (super free!) or she could come over and we could eat the food in my fridge.

She chose that last one. Which is wise. Because there is also wine in my fridge.

And so we have sort of established a little ritual of Friday night dinners AKA Laura Throws Everything In A Pan and Calls It Dinner.

(You want to be my friend, right? You should. It sounds gross, I know, to come over and eat my leftovers. But last Friday night, I made creamy fettucini with corn, arugula and heirloom tomatoes and I FELT LIKE A TOP CHEF! Minus having Padma Lakshmi tasting it which is sad because Padma is amazing and I met her twice. I KNOW!)

I’m only telling you about dinners with Alayna on Friday because I’m about to blame her for the super weird dream I had the last time she was over.

CONTRIBUTING FACTORS TO MY WEIRD DREAM THAT I CAN BLAME ALAYNA FOR:

1. Alayna told me while we were eating dinner that she keeps having pregnancy dreams. And before you freak out that she’s pregnant, you should know that all dream analysis books/websites seem to suggest that you dream about pregnancy while going through big life changes. This makes sense to me for Alayna because I’d say getting married and going back to school are PRETTY FREAKING BIG LIFE CHANGES.

SHE put the pregnancy idea in my head. SHE DID.

Also:

B) There was a lot of wine drinking involved. I think alcohol before bed or creamy fettucini before bed or both contribute to some WEIRD ASS DREAMS, you guys.

So, thanks, Alayna. You are dead to me.

I went to bed Friday night and dreamed that I was pregnant.

Of course.

And the feeling I had about being pregnant was VERY VERY ANXIOUS. I was going into labor when I suddenly decided I didn’t want to be pregnant, couldn’t possibly have a baby, could NOT HANDLE IT SOMEONE HELP ME! And I ran around (a gazillion months pregnant) asking those around me (in the hospital) what to do, begging for help.

It was disturbing, man.

And no one helped! As is customary in a dream where you are working yourself into more and more of an intense panic.

The doctors around me were all, “Whatever. Too late now.”

And I turned to my mother and she said very matter-of-fact, “Yeah. You should’ve gone into labor sooner. I’m not sure why you waited so long. Your stomach is too stretched out and your ass will never look the same and something is VERY wrong with your feet.”

I…

What?

It should be noted that my mother has probably said “ass” out loud maybe three times in her whole life. And once was in my dream. When I was pregnant.

And what the heck did she mean by “You waited too long”?!? As if I had a choice!? And WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH MY FEET? Do I have bunions? Did my feet stretch out? Did I grow an extra toe? I COULDN’T SEE BECAUSE MY PREGNANT STOMACH WAS IN THE WAY! Oh, help.

In a moment of desperation, contracting like crazy and crying because no one will calm me down, I turned to Twitter.

Um. Yeah.

IN MY DREAM, I turned to the internet which just goes to show you where I’m used to getting my comfort. And advice.

I’m not sure whether Twitter ended up coming through for me. I can’t remember.

I DO remember that there was constant music in the background of my dream, all the songs I had listened to before bed while doing my crossword puzzle. (Have you ever tried to do a crossword puzzle after drinking lots of wine? It’s hard, you guys. I think I stared at #57 across for about two full minutes without blinking and then I e-mailed Laurie to ask her if she knew the answer. She didn’t.)

So there’s a lovely soundtrack to my dream as I’m running around screaming and crying and my mom’s all AND YOUR ASS WILL NEVER BE THE SAME and then I turn my head and I hear snippets of Walking In Memphis and I remember realizing I was dreaming and being like WAIT. WHAT THE ????? YOU LISTEN TO WEIRD MUSIC, DUDE.

Finally, I run smack into Christopher Lloyd circa “Taxi” who wasn’t my main doctor but a friendly surgical resident. (This is how he introduced himself.) For some reason, this was EXTREMELY comforting. Christopher Lloyd calmed me down immediately. I told him I wasn’t ready, I was doing it all by myself! I didn’t have a partner! I was scared!

Christopher Lloyd told me to calm down, that everything was going to be okay, that he’d coach me through labor and that my ass would totally go back to normal.

And then I woke up.

And was all, WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT????

I’m not going through any major life changes right now, ALAYNA. I don’t need to have panic-inducing pregnancy dreams, ALAYNA. And that’s the last time I invite you over for dinner. You with your encouragement of wine and pasta before bed! You with your comments about pregnancy and dreams and anxiety and panic! YOU YOU YOU.

But Christopher freaking Lloyd?

Sorry to say.

That one was all me.

I don’t know where he came from.

Somewhere deep in my sub-conscious.

But I was sure glad he showed up.

Interpretations? Thoughts? I SURE COULD USE SOME.