I dreamed that Angelina Jolie was my egg donor.
It’s a reoccurring dream I have been having lately. I am sitting on the couch eating pizza and Angie appears in a cloud of lemon meringue. At first I think she’s an angel. “I have a gift for you” she says demurely with a flash of her pearly bonded teeth. I notice the little satin pillow she as in her hand. It’s the cheezy kind you find on wedding websites for your ring-bearer. But there’s no ring. Just two tiny little fireflies buzzing above it.
“Here…” she says, placing the pillow into my greasy pepperoni fingers. “For a mere $7,000,000 co-pay these can be yours. We can drop them into your womb and you would have a 61 % success rate at conceiving.(another smile). Isn’t that better than your measly 22% at your age and (ahem) size?”
I notice that her collarbone lifts gently from the bodice of her gown . Her arms are white and veiny. As she hands me the pillow I think. “Gee, she IS pretty! We would have beautiful children. But would I feel they are truly MINE? I mean, I would be nurturing them in my body, and I’d love them as much as if they came from my own DNA. We COULD mortgage the condo, maybe get a few more jobs. I think we could drum up some extra cash, but not the $7mm required for this transaction!
My husband comes in to the room holding a beer. He’s speechless at the arrival of our new visitor. I can sense he is leaving some room for ME to make this decision. He loves me and would support my wishes and dreams (and who can refute the astounding cuteness of our future offspring, if this were to pass).
I look at Angelina in her stunning gown and baubles. I think of all the adventure and excitement I have had in my life. I HAVE been truly blessed in that way. But these experiences have prolonged my settling down, my time of finding the right partner. Now I’m 41 and newlywed, and ANGELINA JOLIE is offering me her eggs!
“Limited time offer” she says. Head cocked to one side as she glances at me through those crazy lashes.
I look at the “fireflies” buzzing gently in my hands. So delicate and beautiful. I look at my husband. I know he will be the best father in the world. He’s already the best husband. I consider the chemical pregnancies we have had and the miscarriage I seem to be having this weekend….”A 61% success rate” I think. That would end the hurt and the pain of these losses.
She glows like a cloud of frosting. I would eat her if I could.
“No thank you, Angelina.” I reply. (I dare not call her Angie.)” As kind and thoughtful as the offer is, we will have to decline.” My husband utters a surprising sigh of relief. “We’ll try naturally for a few months and then we’ll do IVF again. There’s still time…” I reply, a little teary eyed.
“OK.” She whispers.”But if you change your mind, or need me in the future, I’ll be out on Long Island wrapping up my latest film. The offers good until your insurance runs out.” She flashes another brilliant smile and turns to leave. “Ummm?” She stalls, with a guilty, beseeching look that almost makes me grin ”Can I have a slice of that pizza?” She asks. “I haven’t eaten in months.”