Twins

Last night I dreamed I was Angelina Jolie's babies. I was both of them. I was the oldest, by one minute and I was the youngest by, of course, one minute. I was the only one who could tell us apart, unless you got right down to the nitty gritty! I was the boy. . . I was also the girl. Babies are almost always hungry and I soon found out that my Mama Jolie's mammary glands are different. I don't mean they're different from, say, Julia Roberts, no, my Mama's boobs are different from each other! For instance, you can suck on the left one all night and still starve to death! I realize, of course, that doesn't sound like a very chorefull way to spend an evening, ("Chorefull"? Must be a dreaming word!) But I swear it really was totally empty. The right one, however is completely opposite. I'm not speaking geographically. . . I'm talking functionally. Like, as soon as the nipple of the right one touches your lips--CHOING, your belly's full. So with a full belly I decided to do a little more exploration because there was something I just had to find out about my Mama Jolie. . . I headed straight for her mouth. I pushed the other Me away and told her to go find another place to explore. I only weighed five pounds so my hand is very, very tiny. I put my very, very tiny hand on my Mama's enormous bottom lip. Her top lip was even more enormous! If they ever came together my tiny hand would surely be squashed! I felt around, searching for needle marks, but to no avail. Maybe Botox is administered from inside the mouth. I took a chance and pushed my hand deeper inside those voluptuous red mounds. My fingers were too short and I found no needle holes. Just then Dad Brad came into view and he was carrying a piano. He pressed a key, it was A-flat. I must have played this game before because I knew exactly what I had to do. I pressed my finger on my Mama's head a few times and eventually found the place that made the A-flat sound. Dad Brad looked extremely proud and pleased. He pressed another key and B-sharp sounded. After only two attempts I found the B-sharp spot on Mama's head. I was searching for the High-C spot on Mama's head when suddenly. . .
"What in God's name are you doing?"
"Huh?"
"What do you think you're doing?"
"Huh?"
"Stop jabbing your fingers into my head. You're giving me a headache!"
"Sorry. . . uh. . . guess I was dreaming."
"Were you asleep?"
"Well, yeah!"
"You know, honey, we're going to have to get twin beds. You're starting to sleep weird!"
"Twins?"
Yes, the kind that have about six feet separating them."
"Oh. Okay."
"What you were doing when you first woke me up felt pretty good. I thought you were awake and it was kind of nice. But then you started pushing your fingers into my mouth, and pulling on my lips. . . I probably have stretch marks!"
"Sorry. Must have been dreaming. . ."
"And then all that finger jabbing on my head. . . what was that all about?"
"Just dreaming, I guess."
"Well, you're going to have to do your dreaming in your own little, twin bed."
"Okay."
"I'm going to take a shower. It's almost time to get up anyway."
"Okay."
"You might as well get up and cook breakfast."
"Okay."
The bed was empty. Strange dream! Botox babies? Can't quite remember. . . I wondered was she serious about getting twin beds? "What do you want for breakfast?" I yelled as I passed the bathroom door.

Dimmy