That was a fucked up dream, I woke up thinking. It was a seemingly good dream, I was healthy, vibrant, and pregnant, and pretty far along by the feel of it. In the dream I reached down to my belly and felt the child, moving, kicking, I would have had to have been 6 months along at least by the size of the baby. But, in classic dream reality I was just finding out I was pregnant with this child. Other than that the dream resembled my own life, I remember thinking the baby would be 14, no 15 years younger than my daughter now and how that was going to be weird but she had always wanted a sibling. In the dream I thought through telling my husband the news, he who thought we were done having kids, who would be shocked but ultimately happy. I thought about how my life was going to change again, how having a baby would be tough, the late nights, the diapers, the babysitters, etc. But I accepted it, having always wanted another child, I was excited, it had finally happened fourteen years after the doctor told me, ‘you have low fertility, your daughter may be eight by the time you get pregnant again, but you will have another one.’ Believing him, we left the office, never to have another child. I must have had indigestion or something to make me think someone was living inside me. I thought I was over it, but I cried this morning when I realized it wasn’t true. That was a fucked up dream.
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