Kar (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} herbouncingsoul) wrote,@ 2007-04-30 11:41:00 |
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Dream Baby
I had the most vivid dream last Wednesday night, almost a week ago. I still can't stop thinking about it. It is weird, firstly, because I seldom dream and on the rare occasions that I do, I never remember them in detail. This dream is seared into my memory, though, playing and replaying in my mind on a recurrent loop.
It is also odd because of the content of the dream and the timing in which it took place. I dreamt that I had a baby. It was probably about 7-9 months old, a beautiful boy named (get this) "Ty." I have obviosuly never been pregnant and lack any clue as to what being a parent would be like. That is why this dream was so powerful. Forget that I didn't know the father, and that I was still a 21 year old single girl. This baby was MINE, and he was PERFECT. I can't imagine what it feels like to be a mother, but I can only guess that this was something vaguely like it. I was in love with my baby. He was so beautiful. I knew in my heart that someday he would be a little skateboarder, trying to start up a band, and that he would have tons of girls dying for a chance to be his. I was so proud of my incredibly awesome, cool, handsome little boy. Every time I looked at him, I felt this warm, deep love and pride in how flawless he was. When he would look at me and smile, there was NOTHING else. We shared a connection that surpassed words. I knew he loved me, too. It was wonderful. A look, a touch, transferred so much feeling. I desperately loved my baby, Ty, 100%. Nothing could even come close to making me doubt his place in my heart as my perfect son. It was insane. But why, WHY, was his name TY??! Seriously, what inspired me to have my baby named the same as my ex who I'll probably never get entirely over??
Also, this dream came of the heels of a very bad smoking experience that has left me somewhat scarred with anxiousness and fear. Odd that such a strong dream of such intense magnitude should come only 3 nights after.
In the dream, though, we must have been somewhere up north. Because it the sky was blanketed with a dark gray gloom. And the ground coated with a thick icy snowy white. I was carrying Ty, perfect little Ty, who was bundled in a small, but puffy bright red coat. We went into a two-story house, where some sort of dinner gathering was goin on. Dreams make no sense, and even though I didn't know anyone in that house, I knew everyone. So I carried Ty upstairs, and this girl from my photo class was up there. In class, she comes across as a really cynical, monotone, dry girl with kind of a dark sense of humor. Lindy. She was in a bedroom, and I asked her to watch Ty for just a minute. I don't remember what I had to do, but I needed her to watch Ty for just a minute or two. When I came back, the window to the bedroom was open, chilling cold seeping in. I glanced through the room quickly, and quickly became worried by the absence of my boy. "Where's Ty?" I asked Lindy nervously. In a very unemotional tone, she mumbled, "Uh, he went out the window onto the roof." I immediately panicked. Running to the window, I yelled, "Why did you let him go on the roof?! What were you thinking?!?!" I dove through the window and crawled to the edge of the roof at the speed of light, Ty nowhere to be seen. At the edge, I gulped at looked down. There he was. Lying two floors down sprawled out in the snow. Without a second of hesitation, I jumped to the ground. Miraculously, unhurt. But Ty looked dead. He must have fallen off and been lying in the cold snow for at least a minute unhelped. I screamed to Lindy, who stood aloof at the window gazing down intently. "Go call am ambulance." She scurried away from the opening. I was on my knees, leaning over Ty. Oh God, oh God, oh God. I rocked back and forth, horrified, in shock, petrified and so worried. Oh God be okay. Oh God let him be okay. I didn't even know how to, but I tried to resuscitate him. I did CPR on his tiny little body, which was going blue. Right before the end, I think I felt Ty make some small jerk or spasm. Whatever it was, it gave me hope that he was alive.
But before I got the chance to affirm if he was going to lie or die right there in the snow, I snapped awake. 10 minutes late. It was awful. I almost started crying in my bed. Devastated by not knowing if my dream baby was okay, and even more devastated by the fact that Ty was only a dream baby.
How is it possible that a week later I am still thinking of his beautiful little round face and holding his warm tiny body in my arms?? I am really weirded out by how much feeling there was for a baby that I imagined in my subconscious. And in a twisted way, it makes me really want a baby. I wish I was older and married and could get pregnant with a real son, and feel that passionate about him. It must be amazing.
It kind of gives me a new respect for parenthood.
I had the most vivid dream last Wednesday night, almost a week ago. I still can't stop thinking about it. It is weird, firstly, because I seldom dream and on the rare occasions that I do, I never remember them in detail. This dream is seared into my memory, though, playing and replaying in my mind on a recurrent loop.
It is also odd because of the content of the dream and the timing in which it took place. I dreamt that I had a baby. It was probably about 7-9 months old, a beautiful boy named (get this) "Ty." I have obviosuly never been pregnant and lack any clue as to what being a parent would be like. That is why this dream was so powerful. Forget that I didn't know the father, and that I was still a 21 year old single girl. This baby was MINE, and he was PERFECT. I can't imagine what it feels like to be a mother, but I can only guess that this was something vaguely like it. I was in love with my baby. He was so beautiful. I knew in my heart that someday he would be a little skateboarder, trying to start up a band, and that he would have tons of girls dying for a chance to be his. I was so proud of my incredibly awesome, cool, handsome little boy. Every time I looked at him, I felt this warm, deep love and pride in how flawless he was. When he would look at me and smile, there was NOTHING else. We shared a connection that surpassed words. I knew he loved me, too. It was wonderful. A look, a touch, transferred so much feeling. I desperately loved my baby, Ty, 100%. Nothing could even come close to making me doubt his place in my heart as my perfect son. It was insane. But why, WHY, was his name TY??! Seriously, what inspired me to have my baby named the same as my ex who I'll probably never get entirely over??
Also, this dream came of the heels of a very bad smoking experience that has left me somewhat scarred with anxiousness and fear. Odd that such a strong dream of such intense magnitude should come only 3 nights after.
In the dream, though, we must have been somewhere up north. Because it the sky was blanketed with a dark gray gloom. And the ground coated with a thick icy snowy white. I was carrying Ty, perfect little Ty, who was bundled in a small, but puffy bright red coat. We went into a two-story house, where some sort of dinner gathering was goin on. Dreams make no sense, and even though I didn't know anyone in that house, I knew everyone. So I carried Ty upstairs, and this girl from my photo class was up there. In class, she comes across as a really cynical, monotone, dry girl with kind of a dark sense of humor. Lindy. She was in a bedroom, and I asked her to watch Ty for just a minute. I don't remember what I had to do, but I needed her to watch Ty for just a minute or two. When I came back, the window to the bedroom was open, chilling cold seeping in. I glanced through the room quickly, and quickly became worried by the absence of my boy. "Where's Ty?" I asked Lindy nervously. In a very unemotional tone, she mumbled, "Uh, he went out the window onto the roof." I immediately panicked. Running to the window, I yelled, "Why did you let him go on the roof?! What were you thinking?!?!" I dove through the window and crawled to the edge of the roof at the speed of light, Ty nowhere to be seen. At the edge, I gulped at looked down. There he was. Lying two floors down sprawled out in the snow. Without a second of hesitation, I jumped to the ground. Miraculously, unhurt. But Ty looked dead. He must have fallen off and been lying in the cold snow for at least a minute unhelped. I screamed to Lindy, who stood aloof at the window gazing down intently. "Go call am ambulance." She scurried away from the opening. I was on my knees, leaning over Ty. Oh God, oh God, oh God. I rocked back and forth, horrified, in shock, petrified and so worried. Oh God be okay. Oh God let him be okay. I didn't even know how to, but I tried to resuscitate him. I did CPR on his tiny little body, which was going blue. Right before the end, I think I felt Ty make some small jerk or spasm. Whatever it was, it gave me hope that he was alive.
But before I got the chance to affirm if he was going to lie or die right there in the snow, I snapped awake. 10 minutes late. It was awful. I almost started crying in my bed. Devastated by not knowing if my dream baby was okay, and even more devastated by the fact that Ty was only a dream baby.
How is it possible that a week later I am still thinking of his beautiful little round face and holding his warm tiny body in my arms?? I am really weirded out by how much feeling there was for a baby that I imagined in my subconscious. And in a twisted way, it makes me really want a baby. I wish I was older and married and could get pregnant with a real son, and feel that passionate about him. It must be amazing.
It kind of gives me a new respect for parenthood.
