Dreams of Baby & Expired Car Insurance
March 25, 2005
Last night I had another in a long series of pregnancy anxiety dreams. The baby is here, and we have nothing for him. (The baby is always a boy in my dreams, which probably signifies nothing more than the fact that little boys scare the crap out of me.)
Last night's dream was nothing new. We had no name, we had no clothes, we had no furniture.
(Which is...pretty much where we stand right now. We have a mobile my mom sent, a stuffed bunny Granola sent, and of course, a highly silly rattle. And that's it. I was planning to wait until we know the sex to start buying things so I can gender stereotype to my heart's content, but apparently, my brain DOES NOT LIKE THIS IDEA VERY MUCH.)
(Oh, by the way, we did buy one piece of furniture after learning I was pregnant. It's a liquor cabinet. Go us!)
We tried to buy a car seat at one point in my dream, and were asked to provide proof of our car insurance. I opened my wallet, which suddenly contained about a dozen State Farm insurance cards, none of which was valid.
So they wouldn't let us buy the car seat.
Dejected, we wandered into a clothing store and tried to find some onesies or whatever, and they had every size except for the size we apparently needed. My arms also really, really hurt because Dream Baby was heavy and we had no stroller or Baby Bjorn or convenient cardboard box to carry him in.
We did succeed in buying diapers, but forgot wipes, so we used some damp paper towels.
Then we were home, trying to figure out why the hell our friends sucked so badly and didn't throw us a baby shower and also...weren't we supposed to be...feeding? The baby? Or something?
At this point in the dream I realized that Jason had been bottle feeding the baby for like, DAYS, which OH MY GOD, I'M A FAILURE BECAUSE I DIDN'T EVEN TRY TO NURSE SO PUT THAT BOTTLE DOWN, I'M TAKING MY BRA OFF AND FEEDING MY CHILD.
And then Jason handed me the baby. And the baby was suddenly Ceiba.
And then I woke up.
So today I decided to take on my subconscious, mano to charge card.
I won't bore you to death with photos of each individual twee onesie and sock, but instead present a group portrait, titled: Amy Attempts To Reason With Her Sleep Cycle By Spending Lots Of Money On Small Noah's Ark And Beatrix Potter-Related Things. Also Pictured: Burp Cloths.