Thursday night, I dreamed that I gave birth to a little giraffe-necked girl who could talk from the moment she was born.
When my dream-water broke, Husband and I drove to a bizarre urban log-cabin house-that-was-a-hospital, where I was assigned to a birthing room filled by an enormous bed. As soon as I was prone, a nurse straight out of 1944 stuck me with a gigantic syringe. I must have Dream-Blacked-Out, because the next moment I was waking up as Husband handed me our little long-necked girl.
I want boys, by the way. More than once I've instructed Husband to inform his swimmers of my preference.
We called her Julie or Juliana or some variation thereof, but she insisted at least twice that she wanted to be named after me (Listen, my darling little dreamed up giraffe-necked talking baby girl, do NOT encourage me. Your mother is self-aggrandizing enough as it is.). The dream was so vivid that my brain kept trying to force the whole scenario to jive with reality. When our families paraded in to meet her, not even the presence of dead grandparents was enough to set off my "This Isn't Real!" alarm. My sense of reality was completely warped. Dream-Husband and I were willing to reconcile ourselves to just about any absurdity. We even dismissed with a laugh how strange it was that I gave birth so suddenly - we didn't even know I was pregnant!
And when I woke up it took several minutes for me to register that it was all just a dream. I opened my eyes confused, wondering where my kid was. I almost called in sick to work.
"I can't come in today, I had a baby last night."
"Wait. You were pregnant?"
"I know! So weird! We didn't even know until- waaaait a second."
For a moment I lay in bed, gripping my phone and ready to dial. I even heard wailing from the next room.
"Ohmigosh! I've got to go get the baby!" I thought, and then immediately after,
"Wait. That's the cat."
I put the phone down as I realized that my giraffe-necked daughter didn't exist. For a few groggy minutes, I was heartbroken.
And there was no flute in a space-probe to remember her with.
I spent most of Friday hoping against all logic that the churning in my stomach meant I was pregnant (except I was also broken out and bloated, so not so much.) My reproductive organs snaked up through my body and my fallopian tubes plugged themselves directly into my brain which is now screaming "BAYBEE!!! BAYBAY!!!"
(Not that I wasn't gung-ho to spawn before my brain decided to trick me into believing I had a daughter. The little voice in my head has been hollering ever since we made a solid plan to start trying next year.)
When Husband got home I told him all about our little giraffe-necked baby girl, how I spent half the dream worrying that she'd manage to break her freakishly long neck. And how I missed her. He grinned, not a little bit smugly, and said
"Does this mean you're okay with having girls now?"