Not. Here’s why I sometimes do not like my dreams:
Last night I dreamt I had two daughters, eight and ten years old. The 8 year old was a cherub-like carrot-top who idolized her big sister. The ten year old was a tough, practical little blonde who watched her little sister like a hawk. They were named after members of my family (Sally was the older girl and Anna the younger).
In my dream we were in the kitchen and the table was a mess of crayons, glue, glitter and tons of red and white construction paper. A little white kitten was happily walking through a small mound of gold glitter while I was on the phone with their dad (my real hubby) who was thinking of closing down the insurance shop early that day and to come home.
As I turned to look out the front window of our house, their were two, tall, ugly thugs coming toward the house. I told my husband, “they’re here!” and hung up. Gathering my daughters close to me, I instructed Sally to take her sister out into the backyard and to the woods. “Hide. Don’t come out until you hear either me, or daddy, or the police.” Anna started to cry. I hugged them both, kissed them and then pushed them away from me. “Go!” I whispered harshly.
Sally hustled Anna through the house and out to the backyard, taking charge as always. I knew they were safe. Their was a splintering, crashing noise as the two men broke into the house…
…and then I woke up.
I’m fixing breakfast for myself and I’m thinking of Anna and Sally, hiding in the woods, terrified and waiting for someone they know and love to come for them and tell them everything is all right. The dream is still so fresh that I’m “remembering” memories of their past. Sally falling off her bicycle at age five and her daddy sitting on the sidewalk (an ungainly pose for him) while Sally is in his lap being comforted. Anna at age three running after butterflies in the backyard.
I don’t understand dreams like this. I’ve never wished for kids. I really don’t have a mothering bone in my body. In Sex Ed. in high school I was cringing with the boys when they showed that film of a pregnant woman delivering a baby while all the girls were ooohing and aahhhing. Pregnant women do not look beautiful to me. I can sort of understand dealing with one pregnancy if you really want children, but going through that two, three or more times and basically destroying your body? It’s beyond me.
Maybe it’s a wish for normalcy (except for the thugs)? No. My dreams of normalcy have me in the same life I have now, except I’m healthy and my husband’s leg was never damaged in an accident. There are no kids in my “normal” life. Maybe a couple more cats and dogs, though.
A dream like this bothers me. Even now I’m still thinking of Sally and Anna. I could try going back to sleep, dreaming, and go rescue them, but that doesn’t always work. This is when I write. It may never be a story I’ll publish anywhere, or even finish. But I’ll get it far enough that the two little girls will be all right, and safe.
How real are your dreams?
Tags: Dreams
I don’t usually remember my dreams, although I presume I must dream the same as everyone else does. Those I do remember do tend to stick with me though. It can be a very odd sensation.
I hate it when dreams stay with me all day. they usually leave by the next day. Maybe think about what the kids represent, not what they are.
I have 4 kids. I am insane.;P
at least i had 3 c sections!
Wow, that was an interesting dream. I’ve been dream quiet lately – maybe that is a good thing. =O)