About This Dream I Had

I periodically stop by CandyandPizza, which belongs to the talented writer Jeremy Glass, and I'm inspired by the variety of blog posts, but particularly by his "Before I Forget (Last Night's Dream)" bits. One of them is about how he once dreamt that the late, deservedly famous Notorious B.I.G. was his uncle. Fun stuff.

Disclaimer/Intro: Recently, my annoying neighbor, Mrs. A, got on my nerves at a party, and also, I've known for a few days now that I would have to work today at 1:30pm, so my imagination had to have been semi-conscious.


In this morning's dream, I was in a room at my doctor's office while she held her clipboard to her chest and stood ramrod straight before me, saying in a quiet, calm tone, "You're pregnant" (which, in reality, I could not possibly be). Seconds later, I was in my parents' home, talking with my mother, listening to a pair of small feet hurry up the basement stairs.
I turned my attention to the door in time to see a little white mutt puppy run up those stairs as if he was trying to get away from something. I watched the patch of light brown on the top of his head until the cutie had reached the first floor, rounded the corner, and taken off for a safer part of the house. The feet I had heard now appeared before me, clad in little shoes, attached to what may have been a three-year-old. She had a very round face and a serious volume of curly hair, the color of which I can only describe as layers of both milk chocolate and caramel macchiato. I couldn't read in her adorably round face that she had just been terrorizing the dog, but she was my kid, so of course she must have been. To distract her from finding him again, I had her sit down at the dining room table nearby with some markers and start coloring. The assignment worked so well that she let me play with her hair as she did so.  After a beat, I looked up and noticed that Mrs. A, whom my mom doesn't even like, had appeared beside my mother, and that they were chatting and looking on. I gently guided my daughter's hair into a ponytail between my hands and said, "What're you  drawing, Sasha?"
Then I suddenly looked up again. 
'I work at one-thirty', I thought.
I was late.