Here’s a dream I had a couple nights ago that you are just dying to hear about:
I suspect something happened before this, but I first recall climbing into the back of a full mini-van. I think my mom is driving. Or maybe she’s in the front passenger seat. My cousin Jackie is there. Maybe my aunt. Probably other cousins from this same family. All of these people are real in my life. There is, however, another cousin there who does not exist in reality. I don’t remember her name, but she is a small child (anywhere from an infant to 4 years—hard to tell in a dream, you know?) and I didn’t know she existed until I got in the van and met her for the first time. I sit down in one of the captain’s chairs and she is in my lap. She’s very very cute and I tell her that. I don’t think kids are cute, so this dream is already fucked for sure. We are all taking her to school and I am the one who needs to take her to wherever she needs to be when we get there.
Now, at some point during this drive, this new cousin of mine suddenly becomes a Kit Kat bar, an opened Kit Kat bar that’s now only two bars strong. Plus, the wrapper has been torn in this diagonal way so that no amount of folding it over will protect the chocolate from being exposed. In hindsight I remember awkwardly holding my cousin between two fingers for the remainder of the dream to avoid melting the chocolate or getting it dirty. The thing is, I don’t even notice that she’s a Kit Kat bar until I am fully awake.
So we get to the school and I’m walking up to the doors, cousin in hand, followed by my mom. As I grab at the door handle, I ask her, “So where does this little lady need to go?” She gives me this crazy sneer and doesn’t answer. We walk in and it’s a funeral home full of the family members I thought we’d just left in the van. I stroll past them to an office where I can leave the kid. I give a real friendly “Here she is,” as I slide the candy bar across a counter, the wrapper crackling like the sound of sadness. I turn around, walk back through the weird funeral scene, and out the doors, my mother trailing just behind. The second I get out the door my mom grabs me by the arm and tells me she has never been so ashamed of me in her life and how could I possibly not be sympathetic to the family during the funeral, which it turns out was for my new cousin. I recall my cousin being very much alive—and very much a person—in the van, but apparently she was dead all along.
Then I woke up and realized she was a Kit Kat bar.
