BILL COSBY'S WIFE
Dreamed 1994/5/5 by Chris Wayan
I'm Bill Cosby's wife. I like to cook--which is good, because he won't at all. That's the wife's role. He's grown in a lot of ways since his childhood, but that's a side of him that I've just had to accept.
It's hard to cook today. They're installing a better stovetop for me, and I'm grateful, but it gets in the way of dinner. And he gets mad if it's not on time. I'm trying to cook pancakes on top of a single brick. Little tiny pancakes one by one--all I can do. Mind you, this tiny surface is not due to the construction. I've never had a wider surface! That's why they're here--Bill finally bought me a mini-stove with one burner. Nine inches wide! Wide enough for a whole cooking pot or a frying pan! What luxury!
Cos comes home. He IS annoyed about the delay but I assert myself for once--"Do you know how hard it is to create a new and different dinner every night? Foods vary, cooking times vary--it's like writing a poem to order every day, like standup with the material changed every night."
Cosby apologizes at last. He says this isn't the only kitchen improvement coming. He's going to buy me a real refrigerator at last, not just that little old ice chest.
I wake up and find I'm not Bill Cosby's wife.
NOTES NEXT MORNING, 1994
This dream may look like a veiled comment on Cosby's date-rape scandal (2015). But I dreamed it in 1994; that final sentence of the notes, "Family-values rape" was added in 2000 when typing the dream for uploading. Since I posted this (2001?), it's been one of the few dreams on WDB that's provoked hostile emails, as unfair to Cos... till this year.
Lately I've been transcribing my 1982 dreamjournal (33 years pre-scandal) and found an even worse Cosby nightmare--his wife serves him with divorce papers, and he's so enraged he threatens to shoot us, and/or himself. So Bill Cosby's Wife wasn't a one-time fluke; my dreams repeatedly painted my childhood idol as real trouble long before the current furor--back, in fact, when the pills were popping. At the time, I strained to interpret such dreams as symbolic, as about me--as I'd been taught dreams all are.
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