Paging Dr. Freud

Over the weekend–the long, long weekend that I spent mostly alone while Lieu did adorable holiday things with his children–I had the least obscure dream of all time.  As a creative person, I am disappointed that this is the best my subconscious could come up with.

We were driving together to his parents house (never met them) and he was speaking very seriously and earnestly about how much he loves his father, and how much that relationship means to him.  I was listening, touched and full of tender feeling because I love me some emotion, when I glanced down and realized that I had this weird tattoo.   I was horrified to remember all at once that what I thought had been a dream about getting a new tattoo was actually a memory–I’d done it.  I’d wanted this really cool, modern, 3-D heart on my shoulder, but somehow wound up instead with a huge, bright, misshapen heart drawn over my actual heart, and it was way, way too bold and noticeable, and my outfit wasn’t concealing it at all. Dream-me couldn’t believe that she was finally going to meet the family and all anyone would notice was this giant tattoo that I never even wanted.

And thus I have internalized the idea that Lieu thinks I am too trashy to meet his family, and that he is reserving all of his love for them no matter how obvious I try to be about displaying my love for him.  I get it! Awesome.  I only wish that 1) an ominous ticking sound had filled the dream to symbolize my biological clock; and 2) that I hadn’t just tried to tell this as an amusing anecdote to a friend and gotten all choked up.