Lately I haven't had any baby-related dreams, it's mainly been me in my regular weirdo dreamscape and someone mentioning that I shouldn't be doing "that" or "this" because I'm pregnant and me denying it because I didn't "feel" pregnant in the dream.
Well, lastnight I had a bought of insomnia and I think that played a part. At a last stitch effort at 3am I took some nyquil and crawled into bed with my snoring husband. It had to be nyquil induced weirdness because at some point I could physically feel myself clinging to my hubby while my mind went on an adventure.
I was standing at the threshold at the old church I went to as a kid. It is a building built well over 100 years ago and I've always felt it was haunted. Well, the door frame was lined with people from my childhood and pictures of myself. One side was just numbers and names while the other side was the pictures from the past. I stood there kind of weepy like I knew everyone had died, even me. Hubby appears beside me and startles me when he puts a hand on my shoulder, "Do you miss them?" he asks.
"I'm just sad they will miss this." I say as I rub my baby bump.
"Tell me something about this one.." He says pointing to pictures. I tell him little stories related to each picture, like I had been there for each shot. I turn around at some point because I hear a noise and I'm at Michaels, searching for yarn for a baby blanket for a friend and for a scarf for my mother. I search and search and run down and aisle of yarn that was easily miles long, I take a bend around the corner and I see myself laying down, eyes closed and my baby rolling around in the swollen belly of myself on the ground. My neice and nephew along with my hubby's neices and nephews were crouched around the laying down me.
We stood there, watching my baby press fingers and toes against the laying down me's skin. We counted the fingers and toes. "Aunt B, help her out of there. She doesn't want to be in there anymore." My 5yro neice says, tugging on the standing me's arm.
"She's not ready yet." I say, bending down and cup my palms around the rolling baby like I was helping her out of a puddle, "She needs a few more weeks, then we can meet her." With my hands cupped around the skin shape of a baby the infant in utero presses her face against the belly skin and grins. I withdrawl my hands and take a few steps back.
"She wants to meet you too." My neice smiles up at me and takes me by the hand.
I wake up with serious pressure on my bladder. I had to pee.
I can still remember most everything about that dream. It's been replaying in my head. How creepy everything was. Everywhere in the dream (except Michael's) was covered in dead, brown leaves. I was mortified when I woke up.