In 2001, I had a dream. It started out a happy dream, and then it became horrible. In my dream, I was pregnant. I was told that the baby would be a Cancer baby, and it be born around my birthday.
I was so happy. Because at that point in time, I had been married 8 years, and wanted to have a baby. Then the dream changed. I was close to the due date, and in my dream, I died before I could give birth. When I woke up, I was sobbing hysterically.
I woke my poor husband up with my crying. He had no clue why I was so upset. It took me a while to calm down enough to even tell him about it.
It was devastating to me. I was so happy in the dream. I got to experience being pregnant. But I died in the dream. The loss of the baby in the dream was worse than the fact that I died in it.
A few months later, the 9/11 attacks happened. My 19 year old niece got pregnant (not married), and her baby actually was due close to my birthday. She had a healthy boy, but I was so jealous of her. I was married for years, and couldn’t have a baby, but she could.
That was the most vivid, and memorable, dream I’ve ever had. It still effects me 14 years later. I know it will never happen, because I can’t get pregnant. But for a few minutes of my life, I got to know that joy. But then I knew the horror.
I don’t know why I had that dream. It was horrible. Why give me hope, only to rip it away so cruelly? I suppose it would have been more cruel if it had actually happened. Maybe it was meant to put my niece’s pregnancy in a better perspective for me. I don’t know. I just know it was one of the most painful things I’ve ever experienced, but I never actually experienced it at all.