Nightmares.

I've had two really bad nightmares the past two nights. The second is quite disturbing and about a baby, so don't read if you'd be bothered by it.

I won't go into heavy details, as I am a VERY vivid dreamer, remembering the most minor of details. Whenever I share dream stories, I usually get the response of "wow, how do you remember that much?" and I don't know the answer. I always dream like this - nightly. Usually not nightmares, but regardless of the type of dream, it's full of details. I don't know what it's like to not remember dreams.

First nightmare: Lots going on, but it boiled down to getting carjacked and my husband was shot in the head. I was screaming, holding onto the flow of blood, desperately trying to stop it. The blood was thick and hot, gushing up between my fingers as I pleaded for help. I remember the deep red of the blood. I guess I do dream in color.

Ever since ever, I have a re-occurring dream about the lack of getting help through 911. For years and years I would call that fucking number and I'd never get through. It would just not connect or it would just ring and ring or someone unexpected would answer (like my dad at his office) or something like that. I'd never ~ever~ get through. It actually is a little joke with me and my husband because whenever I explain a nightmare to him, it quite frequently would involve not getting through to 911 and we'd laugh at it's predictability.

Recently, maybe within the last year, 911 started to work in my nightmares. At least I'd get through. But now the theme is the dispatcher doesn't care. Or the police ~never~ get there. I'll wait for eternity, calling and recalling, requesting help. But it never comes. This was what happened in this nightmare. I'm there on my knees, trying to stop my husband from bleeding to death and the police are not taking me seriously. I could feel the tears on my cheeks as his life was slipping away while the paramedics disregarded my plight.

I should mention that although I dream in detail, my dreams rarely wrap up in any kind of ending. I wake many times during the night and my dreams just 'end' in a quick manner. I always try to go right back to sleep, to find out the ending, but I rarely pickup where I left off.

Second nightmare: This one was just a few hours ago, still very fresh in my mind. I had walked out into the hallway and my husband was getting the kids ready to leave for school. I then noticed a mess all over the floor and came to realize it was puke. I could even see little cut pieces of red grapes in it (I watched Iron Chef last night and mario b made some sauce with red grapes. I'm sure that's where it came from). I asked what the hell was going on and my husband said "it's from Natasha".

"Who the hell is Natasha?" I ask as he fixes his glaze into the opening of the bedroom to my left. I turn and see a crib next to the kid's bunk bed. Within it's rails was a very neglected baby, about 9-10 months old, covered in the same mess. I immediately reached out to her and ran into the kitchen. I grabbed a bottle of some sugary clear fluid and started feeding her. She sucked onto that liquid like she was starving. And she was. She was clearly emaciated. Her skin barely held onto her skull and her eyes bulged. She was in a little white onsie, clean except for the current mess.

In my heart, I knew she was mine but my brain searched for answers. I fired a line of questions at him. "Where did she come from?? I'm ~trying~ to get pregnant and I already have three girls?? Why don't I remember her?? When was she born?? Why don't I remember her??"

He just looked at me like a man would look at someone coming out of some blind psychosis.

"Wait a minute! When you take the kids to school, you only take the 2 girls! I've seen you! Where was the baby?"

He said "If she's not crying, I just leave her in her crib."

Now, my head is swirling. I can feel my anger about him not taking care of this baby (which, let me just say, is totally unfounded. He is a fabulous father.) but it is taking second place to the fact that I don't remember my own child. And I was leaving her to die.

I suddenly felt like I was in the movie "The Sixth Sense" when Bruce Willis realized he was, in fact, already dead. Remember? He started having flashbacks of his "conversation" with his wife and how it was actually one sided. All those clues that now suddenly made complete sense.

I had visions of me in the house and "hearing" a baby cry and now knew it was MY baby crying. And my husband was looking at me and knew it was all coming clear to me. He said "it all makes sense now, doesn't it?"

And I woke up with my lower back hurting (I have a chronic back injury).

I'm sure all of these dreams can be picked apart by dream interpreters, but I'm not one of them. All I know is if I ever do have another little girl, her name will ~not~ be Natasha.