(I posted this on Illustration Friday’s theme, because the image from this dream cracked me up, but may also be a sign that I’ve cracked.)
I’ve had the craziest dreams since I’ve been pregnant. In the most recent, my husband and I were calmly sitting in front of the hospital, waiting for the time our baby would arrive. We both sat there, looking bored, and knowing we were in the right place, just not knowing when it would happen. Suddenly, the sky darkened, and we both looked up to see what appeared to be the Smoke Monster from the TV show Lost coming toward us. We were frightened, but as it drew nearer, and was no longer silhouetted by the sun, we saw it was a vehicle made of blue balloons, and driving it was Peter Dinklage. He landed the craft in front of us, reached in the back, pulled out our son, handed him to us then took off, looking extremely disinterested in the whole matter while we stood there baffled but ecstatic.
In another dream, we knew my cousin had our new baby, and when we came to pick him up, she had him under her shirt in what appeared to be a sling. But when she lifted up her shirt to get him out, she took him out of a pouch in her skin like a kangaroo. Disturbing, but at least the baby is whole and healthy in these scenarios, not like my dreams in the beginning of my pregnancy where he would come out too early, green and with a tail. Whereas those early dreams were picking up on my fear that he might not be ok, these latest dreams seem to indicate an unawareness of how the baby is supposed to arrive. Unfortunately, I’m painfully aware of how it will go down, though it seems my subconscious is in denial.