Two years ago, I dreamed that I had a little girl. In my dream, she was about two or three years old. I knew who the father was (although he doesn't really exist) and the whole dream consisted of my little girl walking around a room full of people being as cute as anything, with everyone admiring her and me feeling love and proud towards this little creature.
I remember waking up feeling strange. Later at school when a Rabbi told me I was looking pale, I suddenly remembered my dream and started to cry.
Now if you know me, you know I don't cry so easily and if I do, rarely in front of others. And if you really know me, you also know that at the time, I didn't particularly have a desire to get married tomorrow, nor have kids anytime soon. (This dream happened two years ago, today things are different but I'm still not craving babies yet).
The disturbing part about me crying was that I wasn't simply crying over a dream. Instead, I started to freakishly repeat over and over how I killed my baby. This is not a fun memory. It was bizarre and a bit funny looking back, that when my dream came back to me later that day, it dawned on me that the feelings I had towards my little girl in the dream died when I woke up. Hence, I killed my child.
It's a horrible thought and not in the least rational but that day, I couldn't get rid of that horrible feeling that I had put an end to something beautiful by simply waking up.
The reason I'm writing about this today, is that last week I dreamed that I was pregnant (pregnancy scares me by the way). And I was walking around with a gorgeous pregnant belly, so happy and showing off to my classmate who is actually due anytime now that I was too pregnant. I woke up, thought it was funny, told her about it and moved on with my day. Have I not come a long way....