At the moment, my sleeping brain is a very strange place. In the last few weeks, I have had some of the oddest and most vivid dreams of my life. Every night has become a hormone-addled tour of my increasingly freaky id.
First, it was just the annoying anxiety dreams I’ve had all my life, with more frequency. I’ve had the “my teeth fell out” dream at least three times recently. Each iteration is more graphic and terrifying (tooth dangling out of mouth like a hanging chad — ewwww. Sorry. Were you eating breakfast?)
I can’t go a week without the dreaded “school dream.” You know the one — you took a class in college but forgot about it, it’s the night before graduation and you realize you failed the class and you won’t graduate. Or you show up to class but forgot it was final exam day. So you fail. I am 42 years old. Can we agree there should be a statute of limitations on the school anxiety dream?
Then, there are the tedious dreams. Ever have those dreams where you are “busy” doing mundane tasks all night? For example, waiting for an elevator that never comes when you are late for work. Or, here’s a gem: the dream where you are vacuuming all night. Actually, I’m pretty sure that dream crosses into nightmare territory. It is impossible to wake up in a good mood when your subconscious has been dusting all night.
Some pregnancy dreams have been amusing. I had an elaborate dream a few weeks ago that I was at the ice cream shop trying to order a sundae. However, every time I went up to order they were out of “my” flavor. So then I tried the-self-serve ice cream place, but instead of paper cups they had edible cookie bowls that kept crumbling before I could get to the cashier. Bottom line: I could. Not. Get. My. Ice. Cream. In my dream, this was an epic tale of determination, frustration and struggle. For ice cream.
More recently, just before bed, I randomly opened my "What To Expect When You're Expecting" book and landed on the labor and delivery section. Mind you, I had yet to read one thing about the actual delivery of a baby. (Denial.) So I read the section that regales readers with words like “pushing” and “episiotomy” and “placenta delivery," then drifted off to dream land. Not surprisingly, I dreamed I had given birth. My subconscious spared me the details; in the dream, I had complete amnesia about delivery. Suddenly I just had a baby. Cut to the next dream scene: I’m forced to pilot a helicopter, which I have never done before. We are over an ocean. The chopper starts to go down. I crash it into the water and escape as it bursts into a fireball. An unfortunate man is standing on a nearby pier, and his pants catch on fire; he dives into the water to douse himself.
Hey, subconscious, thanks for the subtlety. Evidently, I am nervous about doing something I’ve never done before. And fear it will result in a dramatic, blazing crash, with innocent bystanders caught in the burning flames of my ill-preparedness. Nothing like your inner self beating you over the head with a metaphor.
And finally, dear reader, brace yourself. Here’s the daddy of them all. Last week, I dreamed that my husband was pregnant. Yep. Mike was the one with the baby bump. In my dream, I was justifiably incredulous, as Mike calmly tried to explain that sure, it was something of a medical oddity, but new life is a miracle. The last thing I remember before waking up was asking him, jaw agape, “So are you going to have a C-section?????"
I don’t really have a point to make in this blog post. But telling you is cheaper than therapy. Thanks for listening!