Where Ladybugs Roar

Confessions and Passions of a Compulsive Writer

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Last night I had the strangest dream...

No... really.

(Wendy lies down on couch.)


Okay, so I was the single mother of this baby with Downs Syndrome and I took too many sleeping pills one night (after three days of not sleeping) but whether I was trying to kill myself or not... I didn't know. I tend to think that I wasn't... but I was so stressed out and sleep-deprived even I didn't know. I was rushed to the hospital where they were keeping me for observation and this guy I'd been dating was watching my baby... because he was this sensible and boring guy that I could trust completely. He was pressuring me to get engaged, but I could see this life ahead of me with this boring sensible guy and we didn't love each other, but it made sense. He could help me take care of my child... and I could get some sleep.

*enter the weirdness*

So, one of the orderlies has been stopping by late at night and talking to me. He'd talk to me until I fell asleep, and I was actually getting sleep... thanks to this guy. He's really nice and doesn't treat me like I'm an awful person for wanting out of this life I have. I keep thinking, "if only someone like this wanted me... I could get through these days."

One day, just before I'm about to be released, this orderly walks in and locks the door and barricades them and says he's been sent to kill me and he's an assassin. (I had some strange job where I was a courier of papers... and I'd seen something that I'd thought was innocuous, but wasn't... not at all.) Instead of freaking out, I point out that I'm under observation, and they have cameras in my room so they know what is going on.

He says, "Yeah, I know that." Then, he pulls out this note... and it's part way between a will and a suicide note from me. "I have this thing I do... with all my hits. I get to know them, so I can write their note."

So, I read this note... and it's beautiful... and instead of being a suicide note it talks about everything I have to live for and it talks about all my favorite things and even some things I had no idea we'd spoken of. I just started bawling as I'm reading this, and I said, "How did you know this about me?"

He just shrugs it off while saying, "I got to KNOW you. I think I know you better than you know yourself." He gives me this look... like in another place and another time... we might have had something... that kind of a look.

Outside the door, I can hear people scrambling and this guy I'm dating is outside, pounding on the door, asking if I'm okay. Only... none of it matters as I'm staring at this hitman and holding this note. It's like one of those moments of unreality where you think maybe you were born in the wrong time or wrong place and maybe your destiny was meant to be different.

Suddenly, this door nearby opens. This door was to what I assumed was a storage closet, but apparently it had an outside door to it also, and this other orderly walks in pushing tray, totally oblivious to what is going on. The hitman just turns and walks out that door without another word.

I'm left clutching this "note" and thinking "what? No... wait... what?"

One of the other doors crashes in, and they all rush into the room, looking around for this other guy and grab the poor orderly who'd just used this back door. This guy I'm dating has my daughter with him and runs up and hugs me, saying, "Thank goodness! I don't know what I'd do with your daughter without you."

In the background, I can hear gunfire... and one of the security guys in the room says to me, "That guy will never bother you again." And he takes the note out of my hand, saying that it's evidence.

Then, my daughter in the dream throws up... all over me...

*The part of the day in which we play amateur Freudian.*

My daughter spewed last night... so I get that part of it. I even get the Downs Syndrome part of it, believe it or not. I turn 35 in just three months and it's wigging me out. I never thought I'd only have 2 children... and, truth to tell, I want more kids, but it's not just my choice. But 35 is the age where you start being higher risk for pregnancies and we already have 2 kids with Autism. So, yes, I can probably expect more strange dreams like this one and this birthday should be a just a barrel full of monkeys.

As an aside, I manage to make friends with people that are my own age without realizing it... so I have quite a few friends that are turning 35 this year and my friend yesterday announced, "Can you believe we're all turning 35 this year??? Can you believe that??? That's only like five years from 40!!!" I wanted to shake her and tell her I'd decided to be 34 for another year despite it being an even number.

*back to the dream*

On the other hand, I'm married to a man I love... who can be rather sensible but isn't boring. In fact, the hitman had some of the qualities of my husband whereas this would-be fiancé didn't really. Really, my husband acts a lot more like the hitman... err... besides the whole "hitman" thing. No, my husband isn't a professional killer... for the record.

Anyway, the whole thing was longer and deeper than most of my dreams are. I woke up thinking... that would make a great story... but there is no way I'm going to write it. There are dark corners of the human psyche that I don't care to really muck around in.

So, there you go... weird dreams and deeply bent psychosis. I woke up... and thought it was the weirdest thing ever... and then went back to sleep... and starting cleaning up my previous imaginary daughter's puke in the latest dream. *head slap* I think the universe hates me. This baby managed to spew all over and hit keyboards and everything and it was just... blech... everywhere and it was chunky like oatmeal. *shudders* It made the hitman dream look pretty darn good... and how often do you say that?

So, I don't know why I blogged on this other than to let you know that your dream about dancing with the President while dressed as a platypus has nothing on my weird crap... so there.


  1. Wow, Wendy, that sounds like a meaningful dream! I don't normally do dream analysis with my patients (although I am a sleep specialist), but when someone comes in requesting to talk about a dream, the first question is, "What did it mean for you?" It sounds like you've already done some good thinking on it.

    Oh, and I'm turning 34 this month, no kids, but the docs are tapping their watches at me, so I can totally relate to your fears.


  2. Wow, that's some dream!

    I've had a few dreams like that, totally bizarre, really deep, so real and yet utterly strange that would make awesome stories.

    I plan on turning at least one into a story eventually. It was about angels and demons so that tells you about some of the dreams I have, lol

  3. Cecilia, it was interesting to see that this fear of turning 35 was sinking into my subconscious mind also. Dreams can be honest in that way. I won't say they're generally helpful, but they can be honest in ways we'd rather not admit to.

    Nicole, exactly! They would make great stories... but I just don't want to get into the emotions sometimes. I know tons of famous novels have started as dreams. Twilight comes to mind right off....

  4. I'm both sorry and glad you've realized the fact about having children past the age of 35. Having children after 35 has all sorts of risks - obviously Down Syndrome for the child, but also a risk of ovarian cancer in the mother (I know because my mom has ovarian cancer and she had me when she was 39 1/2). I'm sorry that you're afraid of turning 35 and not being able to have the full ability of more kids.
    On the other hand, there is always the chance that things could turn out fine. My brother and I were both born after my mom was 35 and we're, if I do say so myself, pretty awesome children. And, as for my mom's sickness, it runs in our family and might not have had much to do with when she had us.
    I'm hoping for the best for you :)
    And oh my goodness, that really would make a good story! Us writers are so funny that way :) I had a crazy apocalyptic dream last night that would make a good novel....

  5. KT, with us, it's just doubtful we'll have any more kids the old-fashioned way because our risk of Autism jumps to 50% after having a second child on the spectrum. It's just that 35 years old is one of those markers when it comes to reproductive well-being anyway, so even though T is nearly eight years old and I should have long ago accepted that we're done... this year just feels like that additional nudge or cut. I'd always wanted five kids. The husband talked me down to four. Then, B was diagnosed and T followed after. When you feel like the only thing you're good at... being a mother doesn't work out the way you'd intended, 35 cuts like no other birthday has. I don't think 40 will hurt like this. So, it's not that I think 35 will necessarily change anything... as much as it's a reminder that things are not what I expected when it came to being a mother. As well as that little cut that there is just one more reason for me to be done with having children.

    Apocalyptic dreams are the best for stories! ; ) I've done it before.

  6. Oh wow, I'm sorry =( It's obviously hard for me to completely understand because I don't have kids, nor do I really want them, but I definitely sympathize and I hope everything looks up soon =) You seem like a great person and mother.

    Haha I usually don't have apocalyptic dreams, and I've never written an apocalyptic story! But I'm a little tempted now....

  7. Oh, you're fine... and I hope you didn't take that as me being offended. (I'm not someone that ever gets offended really.) I knew you weren't as familiar with our situation since you're a newb. ; ) I wish it was simple, but like much of adulthood... it's not. That's why I recommend never growing up... ever. I've been trying that so far and it generally works, but I don't think you can cross 35 without growing up. Le sigh. We hatessss it, my precioussss. We hatesssss 35.

  8. Oh no I totally wasn't offended! :)
    I have a theory that writers are people that can't grow up. If you think about it children are the most creative and imaginative, and as writers, we're more creative and imaginative than normal people, aren't we? You are completely justified in not growing up ;) And, I think you should stick with not growing up. Screw turning 35!
    Hehe that last part made me crack up :D