I’ve read on more than one occasion that pregnancy causes vivid dreams. Now, I know the word vivid can be a bit subjective. What is “vivid” for one person may be just a hazy pastely smudge for another, but the word vivid just doesn’t cut it recently. My dreams aren’t just vivid – they are the stuff of lunacy, fuelled by what must be a truly psychedelic cocktail of hormones and emotions.Sure, I had a few odd dreams during the first trimester, for example, I barked like a dog in my sleep because I was dreaming that I was trying to convince my dogs to bark at a baseball-wielding psycho trying to get into the house. Instead they were just staring out through window from the house at him so, naturally I barked. You can imagine how funny my husband found that as he lay awake next to me hearing and knowing nothing of the story unfolding, except for the final part where I “woof” like a dog.
Yes, the odd bizarre waking-dream I can handle, but recently I have been bombarded nightly by mad stories and visions. In the last few weeks they have been progressively escalating in craziness and leaving me feeling like a nutter on waking.
I have now decided to note these here so that I can seek professional help in the near future if needed 😉
Some examples from the past week
I dreamt I had to sleep at work because of our workload, but not wanting to sleep under my office desk like my colleagues, I was trying to fit into the small wall mounted bookshelf above suspended above my desk. I was convinced I could fit and be more comfortable on the shelf.
Then, a few nights later I was back at work in my dreams and my colleagues and I were making and hanging curtains for a lecture room in our corridor at the University (in reality we produce print and online study materials). I came back to our office and there were a few other colleagues from different departments using our office for a meeting. They invited me to sit at the table and share a curry. I ate with them but felt guilty that my colleagues were still making curtains. One of my curtain-making colleagues came back and it unfolded that we had just heated and eaten her lunch from the fridge. The others denied knowledge of the food source, leaving me as the fridge raider. She was angry at me in particular. I was mortified that I had stolen her lunch, absolutely ashamed.
Then, in the same week, in another night of mind-bending story telling, I had to hand up my last Masters assignment (which was in reality a year ago). So of course I took it to the local supermarket! The supermarket was closed, so I knocked on the glass doors and asked a tradesman if I could put my assignment paper in his wheelbarrow. He said that was fine, and that it would get there fine, so I scribbled my name and subject onto the front and put it in his wheelbarrow with his paints and tools! I came back out into the supermarket carpark and noticed a huge bus of Indian people. They were all sitting on top of the bus chewing what I assumed were betel nuts and spitting them into a built-in rooftop spittoon-type hole in the bus. I smiled and thought how great it was that there was a bus load of Indian people in town (in reality, I have been thinking about one of the things I miss most about living in the UK is the Indian culture within the community). However, I was so distracted by how happy I was to see them as I walked across the carpark , that I didn’t notice a taxi speeding towards me. I saw it just in in time and narrowly missed being run over.
I yelled at the taxi driver ” You &$&*£*£ idiot, I’m prengant!”. I was fuming. The taxi pulled over and a huge man got out and gave me some backchat, but I was up for a fight and felt overwhelmed by a protective feeling towards my belly – so much so that I started throwing a few punches (this is not me in reality, I am a very calm quiet person). I was like a crazy woman.
I continued to have a go at the driver willing my fist to connect with his face. My husband came over and started to try and fight the taxi driver. I was frightened that my husband was going to get bashed by the taxi driver (in reality he’s strong and would probably put up a great fight, but is also not a person inclined to fight). I put myself in between them both while they tried to get to each other. I got even angrier with both of them because they continued to try and fight knowing that I was in between them with a baby.
Then, last night, my husband and I were living in an old spooky mansion with a group of friends and had lots of house staff (maybe the household chores are getting to me?). Everyone was going on a pirate ship sailing adventure and we were due to leave – everyone was packing up bags and assembling by the door, the huge boat was moored up outside.
Then a doctor came up to me and said there had been a bit of mistake and that although I was pregnant, they’d missed an earlier pregnancy, and that although I had three months to go until giving birth, that would be my second child. My first was due any day now. I could not go on the pirate ship. I was in shock. He showed me the ultrasound showing a big baby which I hadn’t seen before and then a smaller baby which I recognised as being due in a few months.
My husband and friends went on the ship and I was left in the mansion with the housekeeping staff who were all really nice and made me some soup. I felt completely in shock at the prospect of now having two babies on the way and couldn’t work out what to do next. 😉
These aren’t like normal dreams though – when I wake up at 4am on the dot after each one, the baby is kicking and I lie there feeling mentally exhausted from creating them. I love writing, but have nearly had enough of this sleep-writing. 😉