So I had this dream last night.

My family and friends are pretty familiar with this phrase, and I hope it doesn’t stir too much dread in them, because I only like to share dreams that I think are entertainingly bizarre. Mostly because I’m so bemused by the mini-narratives my brain serves up while I’m asleep that I can’t stand to keep them to myself–I just have to share the strangeness.

I have recorded some of my more memorable dream adventures in this blog before, but I think I’m going to start doing so as a more regular feature. For one thing, it’ll give me an excuse to start posting here more regularly. But besides that, I’ve long been curious about lucid dreaming…alarm-clock living doesn’t lend itself to the practice, I’m afraid, but keeping a dream journal of sorts is a first step in that direction. Plus, you know, it gives everyone a chance to laugh at my subconscious.

So I had this dream last night.

I am going to college, but for some reason I am starting late and the only housing left is in an all boys’ dorm, so I have to pretend to be a guy.

When I walk into the dorm, there’s a party going on, and it is this big goth/punk/drag crowd, with everyone in wild outfits and hairstyles, dancing and drinking and generally having a great time. They are all supposedly men, but there is so much gender fluidity going on, who the heck knows for sure? It’s just clear that I am not going have problems pretending to be a guy in this crowd, no matter how feminine I might appear.

So I go to my room, to meet my roommate. I am aware, in the way that one knows things in dreams, that he’s supposed to be some kind of social king of this dorm, and the room–actually a multi-room suite–reflects his status. There’s a big common room filled with posh, almost baroque furniture, though with a somewhat shabby feel you might expect in a dorm. There are several hangers-on lounging here, watching TV, but they don’t pay any attention to me. I’m not sure where my room is (I never did get around to it in the dream) but I go into an adjoining bedroom to meet my roommate.

This room is equally impressive, for a dorm. I count four or five armchairs and dressers, and there is a huge carved four-posted bed, full-sized, with an under-bed trundle that is pulled half-way out.

My new roomie is sitting on the bed, and it’s Jason Segel. Younger than he is now, of course, with long, black hair. I don’t remember what he was wearing, except that (with the exception of not wearing any makeup) he looked like the goth prince he was supposed to be. But he’s also just like Jason Segel, with a friendly smile and very welcoming. And he’s holding a baby.

Jason Segel, the friendliest goth prince ever. I mean, just imagine that for a minute: Jason Segel as the coolest goth guy in the world, sitting on a bed and playing with a tiny baby.

We talk a little bit, and it’s clear that the baby is his, though there’s no mention made of its mother. He makes a comment at one point that he is going to take the baby to meet his dad soon, and for sure his dad is going to put a fishing cap on the kid, which is clearly the stupidest thing in the world.

My luggage has not arrived, and Goth Jason Segel is a super nice guy, so he’s going to see if he can track it down for me. Then, for some reason, I end up holding the baby, who had started to fuss. After soothing it, I remember thinking, “They’re going to find out I’m a girl because I am so successfully holding this baby.”

And then my alarm went off.

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