Step away from the kid, Kid.

I've never posted about one of my dreams before, because I figure it's like posting about your pets -- nobody wants to read it. Most of the time, when you're trying to tell someone about a dream you had it ends up just sounding like you're a little insane. You know what I'm talking about. Everyone has a friend who springs one of these on you at one time or another:

"We were cruising down the highway in some kind of armored car, and you were singing a Katy Perry song at the top of your lungs, except it wasn't a song she's recorded yet, but I still could tell it was one of hers, you know? And suddenly Simon Cowell pulled up next to us in the bat-mobile and he held up a sign that said, "I will make you a star" except he was looking at me not you, and then I'm standing in the hallway at school, right? But it wasn't really like school. It was more like the dairy aisle at Price Chopper, and all I could smell was sour milk, but I couldn't remember where my locker was until all this milk started pouring out of locker number 45 and I remembered that I brought my pocket cow to school that day. I was just about to let him loose and call Matt Damon to mop up the hallway when my alarm went off and I woke up."

Keep in mind, the only reason I'm even sharing this is because I woke up laughing, and when my wife asked me what was so funny, I had to answer, "I was dreaming that Kid Rock and his girlfriend had kidnapped my sister's baby."

So apparently I was babysitting my nephew, and I had taken him to the mall. Keep in mind, I've never watched either of my sister's kids, because she lives in another state and she probably wouldn't trust me to watch their dog. I can't say I blame her because I'm sure I'd do something like forget him on the roof of the car at the gas station, or in a shopping cart in the Lowe's parking lot. In my dream, he could speak in coherent sentences even though he's only two. We were having some spirited conversations about why he couldn't go the Footlocker and check out the new running shoes, and it was really starting to creep me out because on some level, I knew it wasn't normal. The mall we were in happened to be in Tower City in downtown Cleveland. I have no idea why, since we have plenty of perfectly serviceable malls right here in New York.

I wanted to look at one of those new light wave cameras, and for some reason the mall was full of places that sold them. I took my eye off the kid for a second and I looked back just in time to see Kid Rock and his girlfriend scoop him up and start running. I started running after them, but it was useless because Kid Rock is one fast son of a bitch. He must have quit smoking. No, actually that's a lie. It wasn't that Kid Rock is really fast or anything, but here's something weird about all my dreams:

Sometimes I can fly, but I can never run. I don't know why this is. If I need to run, either toward something or away from it, I invariably become some sort of shambling idiot. I'm either running like the hunchback of Notre Dame when he needs to take an emergency crap, or it feels like I'm running through the shallow end of a swimming pool that has been filled with lime jello. Both of them are horrible, but at least with the first one I can cover some ground.

Anyway, after Kid Rock got away, I had no idea what to do, so I sat down on a bench and went over my options. I could look for my nephew, or I could look for my nephew and compare pricing on cameras at the same time and kill two birds with one stone. So I decided on doing that second thing, because hey - I still wanted a camera. So here's where it gets weird. When I came out of one store, OKSeriously was there. I don't know why. Maybe because she doesn't blog anymore she has all this free time to hang out at the dream-mall.

"What's up?" she asked me, probably noticing the panicked look in my eyes. And also my camera brochure.

"Kid Rock and his girlfriend took my sister's baby," I said, rather calmly, considering the circumstances. "I really need to find him or she's gonna be extremely pissed when she gets back."

"Oh man," she said. "You shoulda stayed away from Kid Rock. He's a baby stealer." I was a little irritated at her because obviously he was a fucking baby stealer -- I knew that now. However, being the kind soul that she is, she agreed to help me find him, so I couldn't get too mad at her. She looked like she was into it, too, almost as if last week's baby hunt at the mall got canceled at the last minute, and this was going to be her only chance until next season. "You look upstairs, I'll look downstairs and we'll meet back here in 30 minutes," she said. "I'll text you if I find him." Then she took off.

I walked upstairs, and Kid Rock was nowhere to be found. I did stop and look at a really nice blue lightwave camera, but it was $800 and the salesman was kind of a dick because he kept telling me I was going to have to pay a premium because nobody had them yet. I knew there was like ten different places in the mall carrying them, so I didn't argue, I just left. I got back on point after that, and only stopped at one other store as I was searching and found one for list price. It was the best I could do.

A little while later, my phone buzzed and I had a text message from OKS. All it said was, "I got him. Meet me at the entrance to the RTA." So I went down the giant-ass escalator and saw OKS in the distance, holding my nephew in one hand and a Mexi-Melt from Taco Bell in the other. I never felt so much relief in my life.

When I got close enough, though, I could tell something was wrong. She said, "See? Got 'im!" and then turned him toward me. Except it wasn't him. She had the wrong baby.

"It's the wrong baby!" I said, instantly panicking again. "Where did you get that one?"

"I got him off some lady," she said.

"What? You just randomly stole some woman's baby?" I asked, incredulously.

"No, it wasn't random," she said, defensively. "She looked like someone who would be Kid Rock's girlfriend." She finished the Mexi-Melt and crumpled up the wrapper, tucking into the waistband of the baby's pants.

"Well, it's not him," I said, as something else dawned on me. "Ummm....where's that lady now?"

"Oh, don't worry, she's fine. She got on the Rapid right after I sent you that text," she said, then continued. "What if you just give your sister this one instead? She probably wouldn't even notice."

"It's not like we're in a sitcom and he's a goldfish or a hamster, for god's sake," I said. "I'm pretty sure she'd notice." She held up the baby again, and raised her eyebrows questioningly. "You sure? It looks like a pretty good one."

I was out of options and I knew it. "OK, it's worth a shot," I said. "Can you help me get him back to the car?"

"Yeah, no problem," she replied as we got on the escalator for the ride up to ground level. "And stay away from Kid Rock from now on, because he will steal a baby like it's his job."

She thought about that for a second, then said, "Me too, apparently."

"Yeah, you had good intentions though."

"That's true," she said, reconsidering. "I mean, it's not like I plan on doing it all the time or anything."

I agreed, and held the door open for her. "Maybe that could be your new go-to line to prove your loyalty to your friends. When they ask you if you'd take a bullet for them, you could say, "No, but I would totally steal a baby for you."

"I would, too," she said. "All my friends know it."

"Hey, check out this camera I bought," I said, as we walked to the car. "It's pretty sweet."

And then I woke up and made this: