Ever since the age of 14, I had dreams that I was pregnant. These were fairly frequent dreams, at least once a week, and more often and more vivid around the times I was expecting my period. They were never bad dreams; that is, I don't recall being frightened or upset in them, except for a rare few. But there was never really any real story to them; they were just like random moments in time. They always left me puzzled, because before I met my husband, I had never even considered having biological children; I have always, always wanted to adopt.
In any case, I'm sure you noticed the past tenses. About a year or so ago, these dreams stopped. Quite suddenly. I'd just assumed they'd "taken a break", that they'd be back eventually. But no.
And now, for the past two months, I've been dreaming about children. It's never the same child each time, just like each of my pregnancy dreams were never exactly the same. For example, in last night's dream, I found myself holding a little girl. No explanation as to how we reached that point, I just found myself holding a baby girl. She was dark skinned and definitely not my own child, wrapped in a fuzzy blue blanket. She had a hat on, pink or purple, maybe striped with both. I wanted to take pictures of her, but the flash on the camera scared her and she cried. And I loved her. I remember that so clearly, this outpouring of affection and a need to protect her.
That was it. They're all like that, to be honest. Just like a photograph; there's no story, no background to tell me how we reached the moment being depicted. It's just me and this child.
If I wanted to be honest (which I don't), I'd say these dreams make me bitterly sad. If I felt like lying (which I do), I'd say they're really stupid. And either way, this isn't something I feel like I can share with Sid.