Inspired by this post that provided some pictorial support to Monday’s missive, my thoughts are turning to dreams, specifically baby dreams.
Apparently this blog has been giving people nightmares. My friend Anna had a series of pregnancy-related nightmares after reading Cath’s musings on buggies. She kept dreaming that she was pregnant and it was “very very scary”, but then she would forget the results of the test so wasn’t sure if she was pregnant and kept having to do multiple tests to remind herself. And her Mum guessed that she was pregnant, and she didn’t want her to know yet, but then realised she was three months pregnant so it was ok. Add to that massive stress about the glass of wine she’d had for dinner the night before, and well, fun times… like Groundhog Day with more pregnancy tests.
I had loads of dreams about babies before actually taking the plunge into the “trying to conceive” phase of my life. One notable one springs to memory of finding myself with a baby, and everyone was acting as if it was my child and I had to feed it and look after it (which was scary given I didn’t know what I was doing). But I was totally confused because I wasn’t convinced it was my baby – I couldn’t remember being pregnant, so how could it be my baby? But like the opposite of Flight Plan, where a mother has to stay sane about losing her daughter on a plane when no one believes the daughter got onto the plane, everyone else was convinced it was my child and I was trying to convince them it wasn’t and they wouldn’t believe me.
Since actually getting pregnant, I personally haven’t had that many dreams about the impending addition. The only significant one was around Christmas when the pregnancy still seemed rather a figment of my imagination. I dreamed that I found out that at the viability scan I had at 7 weeks, unbeknownst to me, the alien had been extracted (how this had occurred during a standard ultrasound scan on my belly didn’t seem to matter at the time). The hospital had been keeping it incubated and was planning to gestate it themselves so they could run experiments on it. What I was experiencing was a phantom pregnancy, there was no baby in there any more. It was pretty horrific. Freud claimed all dreams were about wish fulfilment, and he wasn’t the most literal of blokes and would probably argue that some red lampshade in the dream actually provides the key to understanding its meaning and what wish I want to fulfil, but perhaps there was an element of wanting someone else to bear the responsibility of pregnancy so it couldn’t be my fault if something went wrong?
Or perhaps I’d had one too many Babybels that night…