I have had a busy day at work, and something really crap-tastic happened this morning that I don't even want to get into. I am hopeful that it will be resolved. (I was actually sobbing in my car on the way to a deposition; crying for anything is VERY unusual for me! My sister opined that perhaps it was PMS causing me to over-react. I'm not sure, but I am rarely that emotional over ANYTHING.)
Before my day went off the skids, I woke up with the vivid memory of an odd dream. In my dream, I was staying with friends in a large house. It wasn't entirely clear who the friends were or where the house was located, but the house itself was sort-of a hybrid between the Rocky Point beach house we visited a couple of weeks ago and my sister's Outer Banks beach house. . . but I don't think I was at the beach in the dream. Anyway, it was a large house with many bedrooms.
For reasons that are equally unclear, MM was sleeping in a different room from me. In the dream, I was pregnant and within 3-4 weeks of delivering. I woke up (in the dream), placed my hands on my abdomen, and realized I wasn't pregnant anymore. At just about that same moment, a friend of mine from college (let's call him "D") appeared at my bedside holding a newborn wrapped in a blue receiving blanket. (The friend who was holding the baby is not someone that I ever talk to and rarely even think of! Our only contact since 1994 has been one email exchange via classmates.com over a year ago.)
"D" proudly presented my baby boy to me and explained that I had "delivered during the night." He assured me that it was such an easy delivery that I didn't even wake up. (HA!) He said that he'd weighed and measured the baby and that he was perfectly normal. Although D is not a doctor, in real life or in the dream (he's a computer engineer in real life), I accepted this very matter-of-factly and inquired no further.
Everyone around me was calling my baby "James." Now James is a fine name, but it's not one I would ever choose for my son, for the simple reason that it was my stepfather's name. My father, who raised me from age 9 on and had no love for my stepdad, would blow a gasket if I named a baby James! (Aside: my sister briefly toyed with the idea of using our stepdad's surname as a name for her son--it's a lovely name that would've been wholly appropriate--but didn't use it for the same reason I've outlined here. ;-) )
I couldn't tell my friends what the baby's name actually was, though, because MM and I had not yet decided between "Alexander" and "Colin" prior to the birth. And MM didn't want to wake up to see the baby; he wanted to sleep and said he could see him later. (!) So everyone kept calling him James, even when I said it wasn't his name.
The baby was obviously MM's. He looked exactly like pictures I have seen of MM as a newborn: lots of blonde hair and blue-eyed. Kinda your typical little Norwegian-American baby.
My ex-boyfriend R--who I have not been with since late 1996--was in the dream also. Somehow I came to understand that R and I had a baby together who was only a few months older than the newborn, certainly less than six months old. . . . though that is physically impossible! In addition to the fact that you can't give birth from two separate pregnancies twice in the same year, in real life, R is married and has had a vasectomy. R's baby didn't live with me, and I don't know where s/he lived; s/he looked like R, though. (R is Navajo, so he and MM look distinctly different.)
Then the scene changed, and I was with my newborn in an upscale 4-star restaurant in Chicago. We were waiting to be seated and served, and we were alone. I had no diaper bag or purse or anything else. . . . just the little "bundle" in my arms. As we were waiting for the maitre'd to return, the baby started crying. It was clear that he was hungry, and I had no bottle to give him. I decided he needed to be nursed and that it wouldn't be a good idea to breast-feed in the waiting area of a 4-star restaurant, so we left and started walking the streets. I have no clue where MM (or my friends) were at this point!
Dreams are weird. I suppose a dream analyst could have a field day with this one!
Thursday, July 31, 2008