Boo

I wanted to write something about ghosts. Something about how when they show up in your dreams they steal rest from you all night long. Not the kinds of ghosts that wear sheets and chains or the kinds of spectral presences that populate spooky stories. I’m talking about the kind of ghosts that used to live large in your life but that you killed off, metaphorically speaking, so you could move on. About how when they use your dreams to resume their presence in your life, it sucks the wind right out of you. Who gave them the right?

I wanted to write about those ghosts but I couldn’t come up with anything to say, really.

Stories I don’t even have to make up

I’m going to start dream blogging again.

Here’s a delicious nugget from a dream I had in 2008 that I had completely forgotten about:

A very portly gentleman is telling me something about America and colonial political theory. He says, “Benjamin Franklin felt that everyone should be able to fly whatever kite they wanted, but that no one should be able to see your key.” He leans back and begins unbuckling his belt, and I freak out, thinking he’s some kind of perv. He reassures me that no, he just wants to show me his belly, which is portly because there’s a baby in there. He cups his right manboob and tells me that he’s lactating.

How can you pass up that kind of quality content?

Follow along. Or, better yet, let me know if you want to contribute. Nocturnal Admissions was originally set up as a group blog and I’d adore it if it could pick back up as one.

Comment here or email me: Theogeo at Gmail.

So it turns out I’m kind of psychic

The kiddo is asleep and I’m waiting for him to wake up any second now, so I’ve been browsing old blog posts, and I came across this one about a dream I’d forgotten I had. Since I am not delusional, I know you are not going to click that link, so I am going to quote the post in its entirety:

I was in a swimming pool with [name redacted] and we were [activity redacted]. (Excuse the redactivity but telling the truth would be highly awkward.) When we finished, he made some sort of overture that something was going on down there, and I’m sure I don’t have to explain the exact geography of down there. I reach down and sure enough I can feel a heavy, round presence there, and it’s getting bigger. It’s a head! It’s coming out! I’m having the baby! And holy crap he is moving down that tunnel with a quickness!

I feel no pain as he makes his exit — he just slips right out into my hands, and I struggle a bit to get a grip under his shoulders as he’s underwater and slippery, not to mention heavier than I thought he would be.

I bring him up out of the water and to my chest, and he is lovely and warm against my skin, and such a nice rosy color. I can’t quite see if he is breathing but he is quiet and I feel his warmth next to me and the slight tensing pull of the cord against my skin.

He’s out and it was easy and unexpected and I’ve finally met him. All smiles.

I had this dream nearly three months before Holden was born, but what’s nuts is that this is pretty much exactly what happened, without elaborating too much. Except, of course, there was a period of many hours between the first activity and the birth. And it was anything but painless in the literal sense, but was indeed painless in a more philosophical sense. But good grief, that dream is spot on, down to the not being able to see if he was breathing and the cord tension (we had a short cord so I couldn’t hold the baby up and get a good look at him until it was cut.) Isn’t that weird? That is weird. Pretty amazing, actually.

Water baby

I was in a swimming pool with [name redacted] and we were [activity redacted]. (Excuse the redactivity but telling the truth would be highly awkward.) When we finished, he made some sort of overture that something was going on down there, and I’m sure I don’t have to explain the exact geography of down there. I reach down and sure enough I can feel a heavy, round presence there, and it’s getting bigger. It’s a head! It’s coming out! I’m having the baby! And holy crap he is moving down that tunnel with a quickness!

I feel no pain as he makes his exit — he just slips right out into my hands, and I struggle a bit to get a grip under his shoulders as he’s underwater and slippery, not to mention heavier than I thought he would be.

I bring him up out of the water and to my chest, and he is lovely and warm against my skin, and such a nice rosy color. I can’t quite see if he is breathing but he is quiet and I feel his warmth next to me and the slight tensing pull of the cord against my skin.

He’s out and it was easy and unexpected and I’ve finally met him. All smiles.

The latch

I had a dream about the baby last night. He was big and white and bald, and sitting in someone’s lap next to me, drinking from a bottle. I instantly began worrying that he was drinking formula, and wondering why he wasn’t in my lap, breastfeeding. Where had I been? How had I allowed him to have formula when the plan was to breastfeed exclusively? And so on.

So I took him into my lap and watched as he latched on, his face all scrunched up — a total trip considering I’ve never breastfed anyone and can only imagine how the real thing is going to go down — then felt my heart sink as I realized that I had no milk to give.