Dream Journal

I’m in a sparse bed in a dimly lit hospital with some unknown Native American woman. It’s time for me to give birth. The doctor explains that the Native American woman will be unrelated to the child. Then they put me under. I go into a dream, where I find myself in the same place and position. I move slowly, aware that they’re operating on me and that this is a dream. My abdomen feels sore and I’m careful with it. I wonder if the baby’s genetics are all mine. Then I decide to pass the time by playing with cards, and the scene changes to a sidewalk in a neighborhood in summer. I’m still in the same position. I organize the cards a bit, then I feel myself come back to the hospital room. There is a cart with three babies. Two seem older than the third. There is a girl and a boy, and then a weird one that looks familiar: my daughter. They tell me it’s all my genetic material. I have so many questions, but I take her into my hands. She has a giant head and a tiny hand-sized body. I’m initially horrified by her having the same features as me but then she starts communicating with me — talking into my mind, or is it out loud? She knows much. She remembers first coming aware — I was flirting with someone, she says. She remembers when I first started talking to her (my daughter) — mind to mind. She knows about my life, about how hers could turn out. I am becoming very protective of her.

Rebecca arrives. Do you recognize her, I ask? I notice stitches on my daughter. Was she operated on? Things shift. My daughter is a kitten, a puppy, the stitches are weeping. The hospital boxes her up and ships her via cannon to another hospital, but it’s not open. The doctors suck. Nobody is available to seal up the stitches.