Tell me this would not cause you to wake up crying because I did. Woke up sobbing, in fact.
I dreamt that I was hugely pregnant. Like the late stage of pregnancy where when the baby inside moves, the whole house moves. That’s not the messed up part. When this baby inside me moved, you could see all their facial features pressing through my skin.
Messed up? Sort of but not really.
Baby decides it’s time to leave. But not the usual way, oh no. Starts clawing its way out like it was buried alive and my belly button was its breathe hole. Out through my stomach it came, in a reverse C-section of sorts.
Messed up, yes, but then.
The top front half of the baby’s face was a gaping hole, because it’s brain had collapsed. And somehow, I’m at the hospital already, and there’s this doctor telling me that the baby didn’t make it, it had died 24 hours before being born. You know what that means, right? Zombie-baby, of course (I only figured that part out this morning after waking up. And for the record, I HATE zombie-babies).
Off they go with the zombie-baby and they’re telling me I have to come too because I obviously need surgery since my mid-section has been torn apart and I’m trying to hold my organs in place and failing and I’m wearing this flimsy yellow hospital gown. And I’m running after the hospital staff because there’s no wheel chairs and no gurneys. You know what this is a scene from, right? Some sort of zombie-apocalypse.
I woke up then, sobbing. It was AWFUL because if I gave birth to a zombie-baby, did that mean *I* was a zombie as well? Cause that would really suck. Seriously.
I’m not eating anymore chocolate before bed.
ETA: I enjoy my dreams about John Krasinki SO MUCH MORE.