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Let the dreams begin

01.28.10 | pregnancy | 10 Comments

Last night was plain awful. I dreamt that Dick came to me and told me he’d been unfaithful numerous times but that this time he was in love and was going to have the Dave Matthews Band play at his second wedding. One of the worst parts was that my family was sure that it must be my fault because I am apparently as big a shrew as Elizabeth Edwards allegedly is, and remind me not to read about their twisted lives right before bed again.

I responded by draining our bank accounts (didn’t take long), getting cash advances on our credit cards (also didn’t take long), dropping off the kids at school, and flying to Europe. (I called my mom from the airport to ask her to pick up the girls). Why I thought slumming around Europe was a good idea with a severely troubled tummy, I don’t know. And really I’d never do that. This time of year I’d fly to New Zealand, not Europe.

When I was pregnant with Sally, I dreamt that I gave birth to a seahorse, and as I breastfed her she got smaller and smaller. Another time it was that I was able to take my babies out and look at them, only they were graham crackers, and I lined them up on the floor of my mom’s old minivan, and then I had to yell at Brad for trying to eat my babies.

Anyone else think it’s crazy that on top of peeing four times a night you have to dream about serial abandonment?

totally unrelated, but fun to read

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