Wednesday, February 8, 2012

fish lips.

My very weird, very real-feeling, reoccurring dream...

Baby Moe is a tiny newborn. She has no lips, but I never actually see her without them. I just know that she has a no-lip problem and that needs fixing.

A fancy surgeon explains the complicated plan for our baby to Duke and me. We hold hands tightly as attendants wheel in a large fish tank. The fish inside have all different mouths, some even smiling with teeth. We look closely for some time and then point to the perfect pucker. (The dream-fish has Moe's mouth, the way I see it daily.)

Fast forward to Moe with tiny fish-lips. Duke and I are unsure about the success of the operation. I am aware of a large list of mustn'ts in caring for her fishy-mouth. I painstakingly follow the doctor's orders.

Again a time jump to our four-month girl. We're playing with her like we do in the awake world, smiling and making funny sounds. Duke says to me "who would have thought that fishlips could be so sweet."

The end.

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