So, the anatomy dream was not nearly as pleasant as the mortician dream. Apparently it's a good thing that I'm going into mortuary science and not looking to be a coroner. The dream was a result of my new anatomy book that shows photographs of dissected cats, sheep, and fetal pigs. I showed it to my parents yesterday at Christmas #2. The dream goes like this:
I'm younger than I am now, but I have my current brain. So, I'm still under parental rule but I'm old enough to know that I should be able to do what I want. I'm sitting at our dining room table in the house I grew up in eating a chicken breast, but it's not a chicken breast at all; it's a horizontal cut of a dissected cat. I'm pulling out intestine, brain, kidney, etc. and setting it aside while my mom is yelling at me "you know you're going to eat all that--that's the good stuff!" I'm trying to explain that it's BRAIN, and showed her the anatomy book, but she's not at the table anymore. Seems my dad is outside our house chasing Gatsby around with the biggest meat cleaver I've ever seen. More of a sword, actually.
Then I woke up.
So, apparently I'm going to have a slightly more squeamish time with anatomy than I thought. I told my mom that it's entirely likely I would end up dissecting a cat or a pig or, at the very least, a frog...but she began to pale so I stopped.
The last family members were informed of Operation: DBH earlier today, my aunt and my cousin. Well, that's a lie--I still have one more family member that will need to know, my cousin Christopher, but I'm sure my aunt will tell him. The reaction was as expected...a mix of "how could you do that" with "why would you want to do that". Nothing unusual.