My dreams this week have been nothing short of absolutely ridiculous. I assume it’s coming from the fact that I’ve been stressed out, because I don’t normally have reoccurring dreams, and don’t usually have such bizarre ones unless I’m passed out drunk in an alley somewhere…(kidding, of course).
But here’s some of the memorable ones:
– I’m back in school, and I have the same bitchy history teacher reaming into me about how I’m a horrible student and I never do my homework and how I always miss class. When in fact, I never missed history on purpose, and always made pretty decent grades in history classes.
Translation: Maybe I feel like I’m failing with this whole I’m-not-DIY-wedding thing? I know, that’s probably stretching it, but it’s the only thing I could come up with.
– I had a tattoo show-and-tell contest with a tattoo artist. It was a “you show me yours and I’ll show you mine” kind of situation, and I was covered in them, showing off tattoos in dreamland that I would never, ever get in real life. And to make it even weirder, the “artist” was an American Idol contestant, the Australian guy, Michael Johns.
Translation: I know I want more, and Oscar and I have discussed the possibility of getting some kind of wedding commemoration tattoo. Maybe subconsciously I was trying to dream about excess because I know my parents don’t like them and I was trying to talk myself out of it?
– I’ve had a couple dreams about my 14-year old Lab, Dakota, dying in her sleep.
Translation: These are not good. I know it’s inevitable, but I don’t like that I keep dreaming it over and over. It makes me so sad and I think it’s making me cling even tighter to the thought of having a dog of my own.
– I keep dreaming that I find out I’m pregnant before the wedding. My biggest fear in the dream is that I won’t be able to wear my dress, and that we have to figure out a way to let it out because I’m determined to wear it despite the massive stomach I acquired. Funny, how it’s NOT the fact that I’m now responsible for a living thing.
Translation: There’s been baby talk all around me recently. One of my co-workers just had a little girl this week, one of my good friends is due any day now, another girl I know is due over the summer, and someone else I was close to just had one this week, too.
There’s more behind the baby dreams, I think. Babies suddenly made sense for me a few weeks ago at my good friend’s baby shower. I haven’t been to a shower since I was a little kid, and certainly haven’t ever felt a pregnant belly. Her little boy started to kick and she offered to let girls feel if they wanted to. I figured, why not? Well, I put my palm up to her stomach and felt a little foot (an entire foot!) on the other side. I didn’t know what to do with myself. It freaked me out so much, and I was so surprised by the fact that all of a sudden, I wanted this. I wanted to be able to put my own hand on my own belly and feel an entire little foot on the other side, and I started to cry. I didn’t mean to, I didn’t plan it, but I did. Of course, my friend immediately started to tear, because I was. I literally felt so happy for her in that one moment that I couldn’t help myself.
Anyway. So now my incredibly girly skeletons are out of the closet – I want children. The baby bug has officially hit me. Last year, you couldn’t pay me to even think about having children. And now, every time I see something wee, I think, “Aww, I want that for my children.” And the sad part is, I know nothing about babies. Nothing about childbirth. (I don’t know nothin’ about birthin’ no babies!) No idea as to how I plan on raising them. But I at least have a timeline, and two years sounds good.
So how about that for a Friday morning thought-process enema?