It's my usual-lately wake up time of 4 AM and for the third night in a row I've had an interesting, vivid dream.
Friday Morning: My First Vivid Dream about the Sex of Sal
I wake up in our bed and it's me, Hadj, and Salamander, new born. I look down and Sal is sleeping on my belly. I think, "we've had the baby!!" I gently pull my breast toward his face and rub him with it, he opens his mouth and takes my nipple. He sucks for a moment, I don't know if anything comes out, then he stops, seems quite content. "Oh my god!! The baby! The baby!!" I think these thoughts, but remain still and calm in body for a minute. My mind then takes to racing, "How did this happen? When? What about my midwife? Did I really give birth?" With my mind becoming jumpier in my dream, my dream becomes jumpier. Salamander is in his crib. I think, "What's the sex of our baby?" and rush in to see, him. Then, it's jumpy again and there is baby poop in the crib. Somehow, because of it's newness, I'm elated. We clean up. Hadj has to go to work then, and Sal and I are swaying together in the bathroom doorway while Hadj shaves. He coos at us in the mirror and laments having to leave. The baby is bigger, smiling, has some teeth.
Thursday Morning: My Mom Dream
In summation: three stark images stand out. My hair is once again short and I am sporting my nose ring. I have a new tattoo on my left shoulder of Egyptian temple pyramids. My mom's hair is shoulder-length. We're walking in a parking lot. She is drunk on wine. She is excited by something, and tries to run, but falls, hard, onto the pavement. I rush over, feeling engulfed maternal instinct. I take her in my arms, rock her, tell her I love her and that it's ok, feel fiercely protective of her and terribly sad that she's hurt.
Wednesday Morning: My Dad Dream
The gist: the role of my father is played by Hadj. My mother is absent, so I may be her, yet Hadj is still my father, not really my husband. He is ignoring me while I behave like toddler having a breakdown in attempt to get his attention. I finally realize he's not going to give me attention and that I want to leave the situation. I accept that he won't chase after me, even though I desperately want him to. I walk away and seem to cross over into a new zone entirely, where there is a festive summer party taking place. There are people of every age and ethnicity and they are dancing, playing a magical game with natural items, laughing, being merry. I am immediately accepted into the fun, shown how to play the games. Slowly I begin to emotionally heal from the shunning of my father. The dream ends with my reattaching to delightful sexual energy and love for life and the humanity present.
Fri. AM: It is a boy! What grace! I feel such relief having seen Sal in no ambiguous terms that the greyness I've been feeling while waiting these past couple of weeks seems washed away. I am so in love with this son.
Thu. AM: I am upset by this dream and where I woke up in it. In the moments immediately following I seem to think it's an omen of the future and that when I find myself with short hair and a pyramid tattoo I know my mom's health is declining rapidly. The role of maternal care-giver having been switched is of some curiosity to me, and helps take my mind off of the sadness I feel at my mom's injury.
Wed. AM: The vivid nature of the festival part of the dream is what lingers on me. I recall clearly the objects used in the game, their mercurial natures, and the immense loving energy of the party. It's so happy it's like there's "Vaseline on the lens." I am intrigued by the roles played by Hadj and the absence of my mom juxtaposed against the presence of "my dad."
Some honesty, unrelated to dreams: It seems that I got overly excited when I noticed that my due date was a month away. For the week leading up to Thanksgiving, until now, I've been struggling a lot with feeling no motivation, low energy, and loneliness. My low energy makes exploring my days somehow moot, as my need to sleep or lay down overrides other needs. This feels like a backfire because it means that I spend most days alone in our house with no interpersonal contact, no "social" for this social creature. This seems to also equal ridiculous amounts of time trawling facebook, of all things, and half listening to the familiar voices on NPR.
I tried to be accepting of my late pregnancy energy levels. For the first week, I felt loneliness creeping up on me and I told myself I was doing what I needed to be doing. I managed to banish feeling like I "should" be getting more done and chose acceptance that my body was doing enough by keeping the oven hot for the baking bun.
It seems that this week I have been much less optimistic and accepting of my state of being. I tried harder to have a routine involving exercise, walks, chores, cooking, but the motivation still was not there. Then I felt depressed by that and even more lonely. I reached out to more folks, a neighbor to have tea with, a friendly voice or two on the phone, but these felt like short bursts of quickly fading light against long tracts of boredom; another seeming failure of mental attitudes of helpfulness. There has been a lot more crying or urges to cry. I struggle with feeling guilt for feeling blue, as though I'm betraying a time in which I "should be" on cloud nine anticipating the imminent birth of a baby I seem to have waited all year for.
I'm thinking I got my engines revved too soon, got excited a month early and now the waiting is feeling torturous. Like watching a pot for it to boil, a clock ticking for it to reach a certain time. Choosing activities that nourish me, and help lead me to optimism, reverence, lightness is what I aim for, or in my lower times, want to be aiming for. This morning I feel I'll be able to hit my mark more easily. Salamander is coming, there is no doubt about that and I can not rush him.* Since that's true, it'd be best if I DO take this opportunity to relish my last days - or if it's so - weeks of this lower energy time. It's dark out, that works in my favor. I have lots of crafting supplies at my finger tips, that works in my favor. Even in the rain, it's always beautiful outside, that works in my favor. I could go on. I could also be honest that sometimes, choosing the nourishing option is much harder to do than it is to say I can do.
I started reading Paulo Coelho's The Alchemist for the first time last night. Hadj has a beautiful illustrated copy of the book and I quickly zipped through the first hundred pages of the story last night. I've been feeling pretty burnt out on baby books, and even though I know the time to begin learning about newborns, breastfeeding, vaccinations, pediatricians, etc. is rapidly approaching, I think I might more enjoy other things for a bit. Right now, this mama-to-be needs to care for herself and the time is ripe for doing so.
*I allow that I still do not ultimately know what the sex of our baby will be. Staying tuned is all I can do.