GAYS MILLS - I don’t know if it’s the change of seasons, extra fresh air or perhaps the massive increase of tomato consumption, but I’ve been having some vivid dreams lately.
I’ve always been a dreamer in the nocturnal sense. In fact one of my favorite stories I wrote many years ago as a high school intern was all about dreams.
One point I learned by writing that story was that developing babies spend an incredible amount of time in their mothers womb, dreaming.
During my pregnancy, I often daydreamed about what my fetal Thatcher might be dreaming about.
Once I gave birth and some of the fuzzy pregnancy brain filled with over romanticized thoughts wore off, I came to my senses and realized it was probably just muffled sounds and shadows.
Even now though, I find myself contemplating what may fill his slumber. I long for the days when his vocabulary expands enough that he can share his nightly visions.
I do however, suspect he tends to dream about his dad a lot more than me because in his sleep he will occasionally smile and offer up a little laugh followed by a soft but pleased “daaaadaaaaa” before settling back into rhythmic breathing.
I have never really been one to have too many nightmares, much less night terrors, but a couple of weeks ago following a weeklong illness I believe Thatcher had his first.
Google would categorize the incident much more of a night terror than a nightmare as he was nearly impossible to wake.
He had only been asleep a short period of time before he started wailing uncontrollably and inconsolably. Usually at night when he starts to fuss nursing cures the problem immediately (as it does with so many of problems in a toddler’s life). This time however, he didn’t even seem to realize what I was offering, much less that I was even there.
The poor guy wailed and screamed and cried in an alarming way. He had been free and clear of a fever and signs of illness for a couple of days, but all of the possible worst-case scenarios came to mind.
I began to gently address him by name, tried to hold him close or just walk him around. Nothing seemed to soothe the poor little beast.
Finally, in a moment of panic I brought the wailing and flailing toddler to the sink and gently splashed him with cold water.
Luckily, that seemed to do the trick. He snapped awake, seemingly undisturbed by the light shower and looked around slightly confused.
He snuggled his head into my neck and immediately fell right back into a peaceful slumber, completely without distress for the rest of the night.
Knock on wood we haven’t had any incidents like that since and hopefully won’t ever again.
I’ve had few enough nightmares myself that I vividly remember my first.
I was young and on vacation in Hayward with my family. I had fallen asleep on the sofa and began to dream that I was sitting alone next to a campfire. I knew my family was off in the woods and I was hoping that they would return shortly, when I heard the howls of aggressive wolves followed by faint human cries off deep in the forest. I felt overwhelmed by fear and snapped awake, running to the kitchen to squeeze my mom who was doing dishes.
Obviously though, I’m much happier when my dreams are completely out of left field.
One notable one that came up in my ‘Facebook Memories’ recently was when I dreamt that my ex-boyfriend had been sneaking around on me with the Hollywood starlet Reese Witherspoon.
Without my knowledge the pair had apparently been having an affair for quite sometime, long enough to produce an ugly-looking, little troll of a baby, which they presented to me. I remember being so upset in my dream that I called the blonde actress every not-so-nice name under the sun.
Dreams are often symbolic and much deeper than we give them credit for though, as your brain has a way of working things out, even if you’re not always entirely sure what they mean at the time…or ever.
Shortly before I reconnected with Chasca, I had a bizarre dream that I was at a carnival and I spotted him. Wanting to get his attention, I began following him. He ducked under a big top canvas causing me to follow, but only encounter another canvas. This caused me to follow him for sometime, always, in that annoying dream way, nearly getting his attention.
I finally woke up, consumed with the thought of the tall redheaded friend I had not seen or spoke with in a couple of years.
It was a very short time later that my phone rang, with a familiar number popping up on the caller ID. He had just thought of me and decided to give me a call, just to say “Hi.”
They say the more you talk about your dreams or record them immediately upon waking the more vividly you remember. Perhaps I’ll start sharing my dreams in the morning with Thatcher, he may not understand yet, but it will help me out and maybe inspire him to work on that whole talking thing.