Saturday, October 9, 2010

Sod Off, Mr. Sandman.






Out of all the wonderful extra side effects pregnancy has brought me thus far, a wider rear, vicious, throat- scalding heartburn, chronic sinus congestion, fatigue, an even wider rear, the occasional surprise migraine, forgetfulness (both convenient and 'in') and 3 months and counting of spectacular morning sickness, I have to say the thing I like the least has got to be the pregnancy dreams.




Every night since I weed on the stick, I have been subjected to The Preggo Dreams. These are much different from my usual nocturnal ramblings, which consist of long, epic idylls through cinematic landscapes and have a distinctive gauzy quality to them. No, the pregnancy dreams are more like comic book panels, choppier, cartoonish and utterly ruthless. In the past 7 nights, I have:




had all my teeth fall out while I was teaching a workshop on how to play Freeze Tag (humiliated, I was forced to gather them up in front of my students and flee to my hotel room)




been lost in a post apocalyptic city, desperately trying to save an orphan child and protect myself from a murderous, bloodthirsty mob (in the end, they got me)




had a miscarriage on the set of a TV show where we were all dressed like Oompa Loompas in white spandex jump suits (this one involves lots of blood) and nobody seemed to care that I was hemorrhaging (and sobbing)




realized that I had not, indeed, finished high school and that I hadn't gone to enough classes to graduate and I'd be stuck in the 12th grade FOREVER (I have this one a LOT)




been abandoned by my husband, friends, parents and mentors in turn, on the grounds that I am "worthless" and "funny looking" (?)




given birth to a balloon animal baby, which subsequently popped, leaving the midwives bemused and me devastated




been charged with the care of a small and delicate bunny, who was besieged by relentless predators determined to claw it to pieces (and they did)




and many, many others.




I average about 3-4 mini nightmares EVERY SINGLE NIGHT. And unlike my non pregnancy dreams, where I can often remind myself that this is a stupid dream and change the outcome halfway through (deflect the bullet, deflate the bully, fly over the heads of the clamoring mob) these dreams, thick and stubborn with progesterone, don't respond to that sort of manipulation.


I am completely at the mercy of high school principals, baby eating predators, faulty dental work and terrifying bosses. And I am sick of it. I want my OLD anxiety dreams back, where I am merely naked in public or suddenly the President of Botswana.




Unlike morning sickness, which clears up with Vitamin B or heartburn which can be banished with a fistful of Tums, I can't think of a cure for these babies. If anybody knows a solution, take pity on me and post it in the 'comments' section.




Oh wait, I just thought of one. How 'bout giving birth? How can I have nightmares with all the sleepless nights that are coming? You can't dream if you don't sleep. HA! Suck it Mr. Sandman. Your days are numbered. AND I'll get my old rear end back. (God willing) In the meantime, eleven weeks to go. I am going to try and out smart Mr. S with a cat nap. Wish me luck, friends....and sweet dreams.


No comments: