As long as I can remember I've started each morning with vivid memories of things that never happened.
I dream in color. Dreams full of plot changes, themes, a cast of characters and emotion.
Some mornings, I wake up with tears in my eyes and I have to remind myself that I've been dreaming. When I was younger, I would awaken in the middle of the night screaming and crying.
One of my recurring dreams from my childhood had something to do with Rainbow Bright and my parents dying. I don't know what one had to do with the other, but it felt so real.
Since Owen died, I've had numerous dreams about being pregnant and losing the baby or a child dying.
The worst dream I had I've written about already. I won't go there again. It is so painful to remember...and it didn't even happen.
Last night, I had a dream that I was pregnant. I was 36 weeks. I am always 36 weeks pregnant in my dreams.
I was going into the hospital to be induced and there were women all around me doing the same, except their family members were laughing and rubbing their tummies. They were excited and full of joy.
I was alone.
I was telling the nurse about Owen and sharing my fears with her. All of a sudden, I couldn't remember the last time I had felt the baby move. I looked down and my stomach was flat.
I burst into tears and knew the baby was gone.
There have been many dreams that end this way. Always the same; I am always 36 weeks pregnant. I am alone. The baby is gone.
My dreams reflect the constant fear I feel about getting pregnant again. I've lost two babies since Owen, so the fear feels very justified and tangible.
I feel stuck.
I think my dreams reflect that too.
Always 36 weeks pregnant...
I can't see beyond that point. I can't visualize laboring for a baby who is alive or bringing a baby home from the hospital. I can't even dream about it.
I am unable to get the images out of my head today. I am stuck.