One day, after a perplexingly pleasant dream Georgia Keller woke to find herself transformed into a gigantic amoeba. She really hadn’t meant to nap, yet with nursing a baby, taking care of a toddler, a preschooler, a 4th grader and a preteen, sometimes it was simply impossible to keep going. The baby, miraculously, must have made it back in to her crib, and Georgia found herself staring at a strange pee colored stain on the ceiling above the day bed.
How is it that stains make it to the ceiling Did she want to know? I mean, the baby, a girl, did not, could not, send streams as far as the popcorn encrusted ceiling. Is it possible that there had been urine above the baby’s head since before her birth? Had she actually thought so little of this new one to not wonder at the images that her poor sweet unmarred brain was seeing?
The baby, thankfully, seemed asleep. But her oldest daughter had been left in charge of the boys, and really needed to be relieved. She listened closely. There was a general mumble of karate side effects, punctuated by clear shouts of “Shut up! Mom’s asleep!” She tried to remain motionless, less her movement invite her infant daughter to stir. She urged herself to turn to verify that she was breathing, and was frightened to see the cribs railings.
She was seeing the railings from inside the crib. The baby was curled next to her. She had fallen asleep with the baby nursing. The sweet thing had unlatched, and her lips were enclosing her tongue peacefully. The baby was motionless on her back, covered with a mound of clear jello. The jello enveloped her entirely, holding each of her little black curls away from her head as if she were an underwater mermaid. Yet, every sweet little finger and every sweet little toe was there. She had no scale encrusted tail…but to all appearances seemed underwater. BREATHE, she whispered inside. Just breathe and mommy promises that she won’t scream in horror. A solitary bubble emerged from the baby’s mouth, grew, and floated through the jelly (not solid like jello, yet seeming to hold firm more so than jello) and, just in time for the restorative breath, another bubble journeyed toward her mouth, attached, and shrank. A line, a train of bubbles just the size of lemons left and came from the baby’s mouth. She followed her line of sight after the train, trying to perceive where the train originated. Through the bars she followed what seemed to be a smooth tentacle, leading from the crib to the day bed, upon which rested a large translucent blob.
“Sorry baby, I have to scream now!”
Scream, Georgia did, and with all her might, as she felt that she must have been transported to an Alien movie. Perhaps she was waking in the monster’s lair. Perhaps the monster was around the corner. The baby was somehow being kept alive, and rather than risk her life by removing her immediately, she thought to save her other children. She tried to run towards the door, and found her self snatched back into the enormous blob. Thus caught, she tried to scream again, and heard only water bubbles, popping, one after another. Looking to the source of the bubbles, she saw them rising from the glob each in sequence with her screaming breathes. She sucked in, and saw a pinprick hole emerge in the gelatinous mound, growing into a grapefruit sized bubble, and traveling towards her.
“I believe in God. He is my sustainer. Alien is just a movie.” She whispered to herself, while silently observing 13 perfect spheres, the size of Rainer cherries traveling away from her. Watching the larger bubble make its way towards her, she finally comprehended that she too was encased in this blob, and that this, most certainly was a dream.
She shook herself, trying to bring on lucidity. The blob shook, jittering exactly as you imagined a 160 lb jello mold might jitter. “Of course,” she thought, ” in a dream, in which I was stuck in a sheet of jello, when I shake, the jello would most certainly shake.” In a dream, however, she would feel no pain. So she decided to pinch herself.
A smooth tentacle of jello rose up above her, the approximate size and shape of her arm. It came down upon itself. That is, it came close to rejoining the blob of jelly. Before joining, the jello arm split to approximate crab like pincers. She watched in amazement at the beauty of the sun shining through the window, arching through the transparent pincer tentacle jello arm, angling slightly, and spreading rainbows across the faded dish ran away with the spoon mural. Once angled, the pincer closed in on a side of the mound, snipping a cherry sized piece of the clear jello away from the mound.
The pain seared through her. A pain more intense than any other she had experienced. It felt like someone was cutting off her finger with a dull pair of pliers. The pain stopped abruptly, and with sharp focus, she saw a clear watery fluid swelling and seeping from the small wound. The searing faded as she lost consciousness, thinking in odd fascination that she, Georgia, was the mound on the day bed. She, Georgia, was the blob cradling the baby. She, Georgia, was the suddenly crystal sharp shard of a lobster claw, pinching herself. She, Georgia was the cherry blob, rolling across the floor like a clear jello marble. Her perplexing dream, of tentacles, of responsibility, and of motherhood was no dream at all.