28 September 2007


Listen closely.

Hear it ?

Tick tock.



That's my biological clock ticking.

I had a very disturbing dream that reminded me of the ticking of the biological clock rather more forcefully than I would have liked.

I was with my parents in Florida (something that hasn't happened for more than 10 years) and they were living in a community that was a floating community. Of boats, sailing ships, houseboats, floating platforms. First off, the 'rents live in Oh-hia-ia, not far away from me. Secondly, this whole floaty community was far too hippy-dippy-artsy-fartsy for my parents to ever live in or consider living in. But it was a dream, so weirdness goes with the territory, right?

I found myself holding a baby, a baby girl, with a pink onesie and pink and white hat on, and she was the most beautiful little Latina, with dark curls and dark eyes, chubby little hands and kicking feet. She wasn't MY baby; she was a baby that my parents had adopted. From Guatemala. My parents who are more of an age and a mindset to retire than to adopt an infant.

I felt an urgent need to protect her (from what, I have no earthly idea, there was nothing scary or threatening in the dream) and to care for her, moving in to a boat a few slips down from my parent's place and taking over the full-time care of the baby. Who never seemed to have a name, incidentally, which you just add to the list of weird things about this dream.

I don't have a maternal bone in my body; never have really wanted to have a child of my own, and I'm not a patient woman. I think I'd make a terrible mother. I have a temper like a house on fire, and hello, I'm a train-wreck at this particular point in my life. I've got no business whatsoever having or trying to adopt a baby.

I woke up very disoriented, and sure that something was missing, something was wrong, until I realized that I don't have a child and it was just a dream. It took me a very long time to settle back in to sleep. I'd like to be able to blame this dream on my sleeping pills, because I tend to have excruciatingly vivid and weird dreams when I take them, but I didn't take the sleeping pill. So this is a creation of my own subconscious. That, perhaps, is what disturbs me most of all.


Anonymous said...

I will refrain from serious commentary so that we can continue to be friends...

...but I will keep my pink onesies handy, just in case...


Lucy Arin said...

*rolls eyes*

Hell ain't that cold yet, sweetie, but I appreciate the sentiment nonetheless. :)

Dawna said...

Just because somewhere deep in your subconscious mind's depth, you can't logically reason WHY you should not have any children. All you have are excuses. Viable excuses, but excuses nonetheless.

Your brain, remember that we only use a small percentage of it during waking hours, recognizes this. Despite the fact that you do NOT want to have kids... a little piece of you does. The emotionally needy side (that's what the water represents).

I've had a dream of a somewhat similar nature. I woke up the next morning having a hard time coming to grips that I was not pregnant, and in fact mourned it all day; like I had a miscarriage. No, I don't want any more kids really. That boat has sailed a long time ago.

I read somewhere that depressed people are prone to extra lucid dreams, or at least more frequent lucid dreams than people who are "healthy". Almost like the mind compensates for having a horrible waking experience to giving you a pleasant sleeping experience. It could be wrong, for all I know, but I like the explanation!

You would have been SO jealous of the dream I had this morning... I can still smell him. And no, nothing naughty happened.

Lucy Arin said...

I'm jealous already just from that little bit of description! And I'm stopping myself from making all the obvious remarks...and running over to your blog to see if you wrote about it.

Anonymous said...

Hum. Maybe Lucy obssesses over something she knows she can't have to avoid thinking about something she doesn't want to want.

Or then again, maybe I'm just full of poop.

I still love her in any case.



Dawna said...

mm, we all love her, and I know what you mean.

And Smelly, I don't remember much about the dream... but the smell and the proximity of his warmth next to me as we whispered to each other, cheek to cheek and side by side, creeping and conspiring.

Last night, or this morning rather, I was comparing my feet with the big guy's. Odd...