The Stuff Dreams Are Made Of

Pregnancy dreams are notoriously vivid and bizarre. Considering I’m a person whose dreams have never lacked in near-tangible detail or outlandish content, the fact that pregnancy has raised the bar for me truly is saying something.

Last night, for instance, I dreamed about visiting a couple who had recently moved into a neighborhood characterized by homes built in the 1970’s and mature trees. Their home was in need of some landscape work, but they figured other projects were more pressing…that is until the chipmunks arrived. In the overgrown tree closest to their house, a family of at least four cat-sized, red-brown chipmunks had taken up residence. The family recognized their species immediately; typically thriving in cooler climates, these chipmunks were known for having trouble with gas and bloating. I watched as one chipmunk got a strange look on its face and grabbed its abdomen which was expanding exponentially. Finally, with a quiet belching noise, the chipmunk emitted some sort of pale-green balloon-sized bubble. The bubble landed on the head of the couple’s teenage son, trapping his head in a vile sort of helmet. The poor boy, although freed easily, looked scarred for life. Rather than dealing directly with the rodents, the family opted to cover their property in high-hung nets to catch the bubbles. I left and returned sometime later to find the net system full. Although not delighted by their situation, the couple was at least relieved they were no longer in danger of being trapped in chipmunk gas bubbles.

And just like that, the dream shifted. This time, I was driving through Valley Center with my mother-in-law in the early hours of evening, trying to chase down a very low-flying hot air balloon.

None of it seemed strange until I had been awake for a few moments. How do thoughts like that even take shape?

Last week, before my doctor’s appointment, I had another dream that, in many ways, was equally strange. My Anna was no longer a wiry little beauty with a shock of wild curls. Although her voice and mannerisms were the same, she had transformed into a school-aged, heavy-set Asian boy with a buzz cut and a T-shirt with horizontal stripes. We had a naughty monkey named Wilton that fought with Kate and led her into all sorts of trouble. Life was a different brand of crazy from life in the waking realm, but none of it seemed out of place while I slept. That’s why the piece of my dream in which I went to the doctor and got bad news about the projected outcome of this pregnancy was so convincing. My real-life doctor’s appointment didn’t yield bad news, but in some ways, I half expected it to (even though I didn’t for a moment expect Anna to morph into an Asian kid…)

Perhaps belching chipmunks will help convince me to put everything in better perspective. I do believe that dreams hold meaning sometimes, but allowing fear to be the lens through which I view them will only magnify the wack-o factor and strip them of any shred of credibility they may possess.

Now, I’m sitting on the couch, enjoying the beautifully odd aspects of real life with family. My girls are happily eating macaroni and dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets with nothing on but their unders. Daddy’s still in charge in this house, folks!

My next appointment to check on the newest little squirt is tomorrow afternoon. I suppose we’ll see what tomorrow brings!