Are abnormally vivid dreams a symptom of pregnancy? Cause if they’re not, I think I should see a psychiatrist.
The first one I remember happened the day after I took the initial pregnancy test. I dreamt that when I told my mom I was pregnant, she told me she was pregnant too. I remember thinking how I wanted to be supportive of this tradition-bucking liberated move of hers, but all I could feel was how she’d be less obsessed with being an awesome grandma and all of the attention would be diverted away from me and my baby. I tried to explain this to her, but strangely, it came out sounding selfish. At this, I threw an all-out fit, because there’s nothing more frustrating than not being able to explain why you’re mad without sounding like a brat. I was so upset, I woke myself up.
The next vivid dream I had was one of the fragmented, twirly, LSD-ish kind. All of my college roommates were hanging out at our old house in Cincinnati jumping on the trampoline in the backyard with the sprinkler underneath it. (Remember doing that? It was awesome.) Also, all of us were extremely pregnant. We were having a grand, ol’ LDS-ish time until the grease monkey who joy rides in Cameron’s father’s car in “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” showed up and told us it was time to go see his band play. I, however, was super stressed out because I’d been offered a last-minute solo in my friend Katie’s high school choir concert and felt that going to see the band play would take away valuable practice time. I went anyway. Then, I experienced one of those black-out time-warp things that happens in dreams of this nature, and when we were back on-line, I was on a dock in a lagoon by the beach, watching Trent and my sister, Mckenna, free dive in the very deep, very clear water that also happened to be lousy with open electrical wiring. Those daredevils! Again, I was so upset, I woke myself up.
Next, it was a montage of my elementary school field day. I kept running around the soccer field at the back of the school with a baton in my hand, trying to catch up with the person in front of me so I could hand it off. But I couldn’t run fast enough. I just circled the goal posts over and over thinking, “I’ll have to hold this baton forever.” If that’s not symbolic, I don’t know what is.
And this was just the first week. Maybe I’ll try adding mind-wiping hypnosis to my bedtime routine.
Listening to: The Civil Wars, “The Devil’s Backbone”