I had a dream that I had a dream that I had a baby last week.

Normally I don’t read much into the weird stuff that happens in my subconscious, but this one makes me wonder. Especially since dreams about having babies or being pregnant are a regular nightly activity for my sleeping brain.

It’s not only the baby topic either. I also am wondering about the Inception-like nature of the dream. (Pay attention, this part is going to be confusing.) When I “awoke” from the deeper-level dream into the regular dream, I realized that the birth was only a dream (within the dream that I didn’t realize I was having).

I think this dream was my guilty conscience haunting me.

Back in time

Cue eerie music, blurry vision and a slow fade into the past.

When we were first married, my husband and I were on the same page about having kids. That’s very important because I think that’s one of the things that’s a deal-breaker when considering your life partner. Either way you fall on the issue is fine, but not agreeing on a decision of this magnitude can cause lifelong resentment.

So, we both wanted kids almost nine years ago when we said “I do.” Somewhere along the line, I changed my mind. There was a single instance when I asked if he were ready, and he wasn’t, and that was well and good. One other time, I was … late. Late enough to take a pregnancy test.

Negative.

 And I was disappointed. Really disappointed.

That was about six years ago, and since then, I grew old and crotchety and intolerant of children. Well, intolerant of some of the inevitables about children anyway.

Lately, I’ve started feeling really guilty about not wanting to have them anymore. Andrew and I have talked about the issue and though he’s hoping I’ll change my mind at some point, he’s not counting on it.

And he loves me anyway.

He doesn’t act resentful. He hasn’t threatened to leave. He said he promised to be with me, for better or for worse, and he’s not reneging on that promise.

One of the problems with his willingness to forgive my change of heart is that I feel guilty. If he were angry or threatening, I would be more stubborn and set on my decision. Not so when he remains as loving as he’s always been.

Life-changing choices

If you know me and you have children, I’ve probably asked you about your decision. Whether you enjoy parenthood. How difficult it is. Whether it was worth giving up your freedom.

Though everyone tells me motherhood amazing, I think it’s a scam. I think people just want everyone else to be as miserable as they are. (Calm down – I’m kidding. Mostly.)

Parents do admit it changes your life, and that’s what I’m afraid of. You already know that freedom is extremely important to me. I would never give it up lightly. Sure, I have pets that I adore as children, but I can leave them at home by themselves when I go on vacation with my husband, and they won’t be scarred for life if they walk in on us *ahem* enjoying each other’s company.

I ask these questions of you because I want to find a reason to change my mind. I want to want to have kids because I don’t want people to look at me weird for the rest of my life when I say I don’t have any. But mostly I want to want to have kids because I feel guilty for depriving my husband of something he wants. Something big.

My guilty conscience attacks me in my sleep.

Haunting

In the dreams, I’m always happy that I have the baby, but Andrew is not there to be joyous about the occasion. When I wake up, I feel like I’ve let him down again and again because the baby was only a dream.

That this particular birth was a dream within a dream I also think is significant because I felt the guilt when I woke up from the inner dream. But more than that, I felt disappointment.  For myself. Which makes me think I’m letting two people down, not just one.

Unsalvageable regret

I’m familiar with the shame of letting others down, but I don’t really know what it feels like to let myself down. It might be something one discovers only at the end of life looking back on what was and what could have been. This is a different kind of regret altogether because there is no fix, there is no salvaging the lost opportunity. Sometimes you can make the next best decision when you are in a regrettable situation, but this, this is not that sort of situation. If I never have children, I’ll live with that decision forever, and so will my husband.

Will I look back with regret? My dreams are telling me the answer is yes. Maybe this situation is salvageable after all.

I don’t know what will happen. I don’t know what my heart will decide. And I certainly don’t know how my husband will feel if we pass the point of no return.

All I know is that dreams are a window, and the glass is beginning to defrost.

 

Do you think dreams are telling you something? What are they telling you?