completely not funny: a dream

Last night's dream starts off in the Royalton lobby but there's a fireplace. A guy who's supposed to be a combo of Wesley Snipes and his old martial arts instructor (who nicely reinforced my reasoning for almost never letting males know even the cross-streets of my building) was sitting with me and we were eating this pate with olives somehow inside these nummy loaves, Gruyere fondue, and huge smoked salmon-wrapped, marinated artichokes with capers and a hint of lemon (hands down, my fav). All seemed well enough.

Then it was like a spy movie though, think Bridget Fonda's first assassination scene in Point of No Return. Dude leads me down this veneered Art Deco hallway to a room that's nice and toasty, thinking I don't know anything's up. I'm bummed because it's v. inviting in the room and there's another fireplace and candles and white flowers and a white fur rug that I'm pretty sure was supposed to be baby seal, but that wouldn't surprise me because the bed was carved ivory. (These served as further warnings of Wrongness.) I slip out remarkably easily, but wind up with a bunch of the Gigi's (Gorge-us Gouging, our female art group) in this massive tri-level pool area that's cavernous and dark but calming with lots of glass tiles and natural stones. At first the biggest and lowest pool is empty but it fills and all's well, swim, swim. Happy, nice. We decide to sauna but I am taken back, alone, to the lobby, knowing my friends will be worried.

Dude takes down an exit sign I hadn't noticed before as we enter the same hallway, opens a door I don't remember by using the sign to clumsily jimmy door, puts the sign over this door instead and leads me back to the room. I make a mental note, in case. He leaves, and my brother shows up, though he's about 13 and when we walk out then I am maybe 17 and we're in a park back home, heading to the waterfalls. He goes to his friend's car to get something but there's a dead guy inside and we're like, "Come on. We just want to be left alone and live our lives, cosmos. And do kid stuff." But someone's coming and this bag is stuck to my brother that turns out to have a severed human head inside. We spend the rest of the dream almost getting to dispose of the head but then someone almost catching us each time, and I keep saying not to panic, just stay calm. Lesson: heads - always a problem. (Also, this is likely tied directly to talk a few hours before sleep of how I should be afraid to give birth because there's a better than average chance the size of the fetal cranium will be formidable.)