Peacock dream for baby chop-chop (dreamt 11-28-10/afternoon)

The dream nocturnally convened we were walking around your neighborhood (Wheatfield) with a group of people and I was groping the ivory tips of your fingers into a gentle squeeze and you were smiling and we were both acting kinda goofy much to the chagrin of our nearby peers who seemed to kind of scowl at our fluttering follies. It was the neighborhood where you live right now but for some reason your family owned the majority of the houses (you owned my uncles house). I felt very serene and peaceful with you buckled in the grasp of my palms and we continued to walk around the manor in which you lived and you pointed out property your parents owned (there was also an abandoned swimming pool they owned).

We then entered yer house (the actual house you are living in, the one in the dream you sent me) and you told me that one of your sisters was very sick and you wanted me to meet her. We went up to the second floor of your house and it was exactly like you described it to me in your dream. I then heard this giant shrieking sound, seriously, it sounded like a bald eagle was being sodomized with a Molly Pitcher tampon, and you pointed in the opposite direction s of the bedroom, towards the back of the house and there was this labyrinth. You began to hold my hand even tighter as we skirted into the maze and you told me that your sister was “through here,” as we walked the shrieking began to escalate even louder even though you seemed to audibly be inured to it. The screeching got so insufferable and high pitched that I let go off your sheet music colored hands and clasped my palms over my ears and said something like, “What the phuck is that sound?” You just looked at me and said very nonchalantly and replied with a blithe smile, “Don’t worry. It’s just the family peacock. It won’t hurt you .”(Only you chop-chop).
We continued to walk towards the back of the maze past the good’ ol chop-cholland-heirloom family pet peacock and the bird continued to screech even louder and when I ambled past it (it was out of my peripheral vision but I felt it as it flapped over the top of my scalp) it emitted one final shrill and then bit a chunk out of the back of my head.
We then got into this really petty argument. I was like:
“Shit chop-chop, yer phucking familial peacock bit me and now I’m gonna get Pertusis.”
You then started laughing almost hysterically and said something like, “You can’t get pertusis from a peacock, silly.”
And I became even more irate (which isn’t really me) and I was like, “ I’m gonna get pertusis and I’m gonna get all my residents’ sick and lose my job.”
And you smiled and laughed and then got very hush-hush serious and tried to assuage my panic and spoke in a very endearing and gentle almost maternal monotone and said, “David, I’m a nurse. If you had pertusis I would tell you.”
You then began walking forward into the maze to see your sister but I said something like, “shit, I’m outta here” and ran outside yer house groping the top of my head. When I arrived outside it was sunny and time for your sisters wedding and there was this southern looking Gazebo (still in bumphuck wheatfield) where your sister was going to get married inside of and you were wearing this really (I think kinda yellowish (gold), spring flavored and smittenly stunning nonetheless) dress and you smoothed down the front of your dress and kissed the angular side of my cheek and said, “I need to meet with the wedding party so sit here and I’ll be back in a minute.” The table where I was seated was outdoors and there was all these hot girls wildly texting each other (Girls who, in the immortal patois of Holden Caulfield, ‘Look like they would be bitches if you got to know them.’) and I got bored and started cracking petty jokes, ie, I pointed at the Gazebo and started making connotations to Southern Comfort and said something like, It looks like the cover to William Faulkner’s Light in August) only none of the stuck-up bitches laughed or even acknowledged me b/c they were too monopolized tapping morose code like cryptograms into the cyclopic tint of their cell phones and then I took my cell phone out and purposefully dropped it in front of one of the girls so when I reached down to pick it up I could voyeuristically sneak and peek up her dress (even in my dreams I’m nothing short of incorrigible) and when I was lifting my head back up my dear friend Phoebe the hot lesbian was seated next to me and she was dressed to kill and her lips looked like she just spent the last half-hour making out with a maraschino cherry and she gave me a hug and asked me who I was here with and after I said your name she looked back at me in this quizzical fashion and said, “Chop-chop? I thought you guys were like exclusive?”
I then woke up to the bleeping herald of yer text arriving telling me that your step father has just said the word chop-chop (He must’ve been talking about going outside and cutting down some firewood after going hunting with your sister) and that you started laughing.