No one mentioned to me that pregnancy causes the most whacked out, bizzaro dreams. Every night. Two nights ago, I dreamt of a giant shrimp. He was dancing and singing. Last night I dreamt of cotton. All different colors like easter eggs in a field. There have been dreams of babies, too. Babies the size of skyscrapers or singing like Sinatra (singing is a repeating theme). I dreamt of a rock. That was it. Just a rock. Nothing else. Rock.
I figure that somewhere deep, very deep, in my brain… the idea of being a mother caused two little known but very important synapses to overload thereby producing nightly mental meltdowns.
I never knew it was possible to be bored by a dream.
A rock. Nothing else.