I had a dream. It was scary in a freaky, haunting way. It was one of two baby dreams I had last night. The other one wasn’t bad. Wasn’t great, but it wasn’t bad either. The first one, though, woke me up scared.
My baby was born, and everything seemed okay until I looked at it. I don’t know if it was a girl or a boy, all I knew was it had to be killed. The baby had no soul, but only I could tell. I kept screaming at everyone around me, my mom, the nurses, doctors, family, friends, everyone. I screamed for them to get the child away from me and drown it or something. They all just thought I was crazy or tired or something. But I knew it was evil and felt terrible because I had produced it. So it was like I had done something horribly wrong, but yet I knew that the way to make it right was to kill the baby, but no one would do it or let me do it. So I just kept pushing it away and screaming at them. The child didn’t make a sound.
I can’t imagine what I’ll be dreaming about once I’m actually pregnant or a mother. Yikes.