I have been a vivid dreamer all of my life. I’ve been keeping dream journals for a long time now; they’re always fun to go back and read. Last night was no exception- full-on complex plot with story arch and character development.
My dream:
From what I can remember, for some reason I was rushed to the ER. I was having strange cramping, and the doctor determined I was ovulating, like, right then. I explained I have POF, and that it was imperative they get that egg STAT. So they wheeled me into another room and my dress (I was wearing a dress, which is weird, b/c I never wear dresses) was up over my legs and they had this HUGE, like 3 foot long needle. “We’re going to give you a little anesthesia to numb you up a little bit,” says a nurse. I look over at A, who’s standing there, just as panicky as I am. I ask him “Are you ready for this? I know we’ve only talked about going the IVF root, but this might be my one chance so are you ok with like, throwing some sperm in a cup for me right now?”
Aaaaand then I woke up. LOL, whut?
The night before last, I woke up out of a dead sleep, no dream that I can remember, and being completely overwhelmed by the fact that we probably will have to use donor eggs and go IVF. Like, awakened by anxiety. I’ve never had that happen, even after I was diagnosed with mild panic disorder in college. Nuts. I woke up not once but twice that night- same terror over not being able to have my own kids. WTF mate?
I’ve noticed that the hardest time of day for me is at night, and sometimes right when I first wake up for the day. The rest of the day, I’m fine for the most part. It’s in those still moments of the day where it really gets me. Very strange.
