Once upon a time – before I got pregnant with Lauren – I was a great dreamer. I had big, detailed cinematic dreams that went through dramatic acts and story arcs. I was often the heroine, which was awesome, because I was a lucid dreamer. I totally knew I was dreaming, and I could control it as I pleased. I gave myself super-powers if I needed them. When things weren’t going my way, I stopped everything and changed it so that everything would be how I wanted it to be. If something happened that I didn’t want to happen, I could start it all over again and do it the way I wanted to do it.

I loved sleeping because I loved dreaming because I had such power in my dreams.

That changed when I fell pregnant with Lauren. Lots of pregnant women have vivid dreams, sometimes good and sometimes bad. Sometimes they dream of their unborn child. That didn’t happen with me. I dreamed very rarely while pregnant, and they were rarely the cinematic dreams I used to have. They were snapshots or flashes of images or odd, short scenes. I had no control; I could not rewind, I could not pause or stop.

I never dreamed of Lauren. Once or twice, I dreamed of a pregnant me. None of the dreams I had were particularly bad, but they weren’t the type of dreams I was used to. I was a bystander, a spectator. Nothing more.

After Lauren died, the dreams changed again. The cinematic dreams did return, but I no longer had any control over them. I was part of the story, a character but not an author. Things happened to me, and if I didn’t like them, there was nothing I could do about it.

Most of the dreams I remember in the six months after Lauren died were not good dreams. I dreamt often of losing Geordie, in one way or another. That was natural, I suppose; I had lost my daughter, so of course I feared losing my husband. Geordie took these in stride and reassured me after all of them. Eventually, they tapered off. Since moving to Texas,I’d had a few, but only a few.

This week, I had another, the first in several months. It was not the first vivid dream of this pregnancy. I’ve already had quite a few, but this one affected me the most. It was the first one of the pregnancy that threatened a loss of Geordie. I doubt very much I’ll ever get used to such dreams.

I don’t really have any point or direction for this. I wanted to write something for today, and this was what came to mind. I have found that pregnancy is not conducive to writing for me. It’s a block. It’s hard to think about anything but being pregnant, especially in the first trimester. I can’t promise that I’ll be able to keep to my regular posting schedule. I’m going to make special effort to post on Mondays, Wednesday, Fridays, and Saturdays, but I’m not sure of anything beyond that. Hopefully, my mind will be a little more focused once I’m out of the first trimester!

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