This is marriage to Paul Rudd

We're in the woods and I'm married to Paul Rudd. There are people around. This is the nice kind of woods, where it's dusk and there's warm lighting, an absence of cold or hot, and no motherfucking mosquitos. People are wearing flannel. The dream feels like flannel.

My husband Paul Rudd has a restaurant in these woods. He's the head chef. There are many people around, and my husband Paul Rudd is smiling, charming, and utterly beloved by all, including our two beautiful tow-headed sons, who are around but behaving themselves.

Best of all, my husband Paul Rudd is way into me. When he sees me, he lights up. Big smile, big embrace. Big energy. In fact, Paul Rudd gets fresh with me there in the woods, away from the restaurant crowd. Real fresh. Clearly, a well-run outdoor restaurant is an aphrodisiac for my husband Paul Rudd.

Getting time with my new internet boyfriend

I'm in the orbit of Phil Jamesson, the guy from the internet who is very funny and who looks like an actual Tolkien elf (which I'm way into IRL). I can tell that we are some kind of new couple or that we are close to being a couple, but we are having trouble getting alone time. There are people everywhere. His family and friends, I presume. We're on some kind of campus or in a huge park with several buildings. There's a cookout of sorts, a gathering. He keeps having to leave and come back. I feel an almost maternal longing to separate him from whatever it is so we can be alone. I don't remember his specific interactions with me but I remember feeling that we were very sweet to each other.