No one told me that getting pregnant was the fast track to very strange, very vivid dreams. Almost every morning I wake up having gone on a crazy adventure while the rest of the world was sleeping.
Last night I was a man who had to run from a rabid teenage stalker who wanted to sleep with me. We’re talking “lock yourself in the closet, climb out of the house via the attic” kind of craziness. Then, in another adventure, there was a crazy storm in which the wind was so strong it caused a crack in the bathroom wall and the rain flooded our house. I do remember thinking, “Oh well, we were about to get new flooring anyway.” There were more, but those are the only two that can be translated into some semblance of logical thinking. And those sentences comprise the only logic within the dreams themselves.
At least last night I didn’t have to kill anyone. My most common theme is having to defend myself from invaders, during the course of which I usually have to chop off some heads. It’s bizarre.
There’s a whole other genre of dreams that I’m also now prone to called “Mr. Aggie Leaves Me in an Extremely Callous Manner.” More on that one next time.