Sunday, December 7, 2008

Dream Weaver

My brain has officially gone on strike, I think. It's demanding a decrease in the levels of estrogen in its work environment before even coming to the negotiating table. I put the tea kettle on and wonder what the hell that noise is 5 minutes later, I forget what I'm talking about mid-conversation, and yesterday, I swear I lost the ability to speak clearly for a few hours. I feel like I may need to start wearing a helmet soon, for my own protection.

As part of its labor action, my brain is creating the weirdest dreams ever. Last night I dreamed (dreamt? I never really know) that the baby had come early - no labor or anything, she was just home with us already - so the doctor wasn't going to see anything on the ultrasound on Wednesday but maybe we should go anyway just to find out why my belly keeps getting bigger and why I still feel movement if the baby is already here. My subconscious suggested that maybe there was another baby in there still.

While trying to solve this dilemma, I also kept oversleeping and forgetting to feed the baby every three hours and Frank had to keep asking me if I fed the baby. (Why every 3 hours? You'll have to ask the United Normal Brain Functions Union Local 31. This is their job action.) I also couldn't remember where I had put the baby down to sleep and was relieved to find her in a pack and play in the living room. The living room, by the way, of our current apartment, where this baby will never live.

Then I realized that I was feeding this baby formula and had never even tried nursing. (I should add that this dream baby appeared to be about 6 months old and was talking to me.) I was horrified by this and immediately began to try to nurse. It seemed to be going fine until the baby turned into my cat and started biting me really hard while I stubbornly tried to keep nursing.

That's all I remember. It was disturbingly real and freaky. I was really happy to wake and find myself still pregnant without a mystery baby in a pack and play in the living room.

It was definitely a girl in the dream though. As if that means anything. The BIG ultrasound on Wednesday will finally solve that mystery for us. I hope.

Meanwhile, I hope the brain strike ends soon. A girl can't function like this.

1 comment:

Rinny said... you have hit the weird dream stage. Those are the best and the most disturbing. Next come the sex dreams. Luckily I managed to have one of those about my husband and not Patrick Duffy....that's right. Bobby from Dallas. Lord help me.