My entire life I’ve had the most vivid, active, and bizarre dreams. I swear, any psychoanalysts out there who need a person’s dreams to study, not only am I game, but I’m available. For the bulk of my childhood and teen years my dreams included the deaths of nearly every single loved one I had. My mom sank in quicksand. My dad ran over my baby brother. A family friend was the Knight Rider guy and was shot. WEIRDNESS!!!

Since I’ve gotten pregnant, I feel like my dreams have turned in to a science experiment. I wish I could hit a record button before I go to sleep and replay them for you because my descriptions never do them justice. Partly because my descriptions are based on my shadowy remembrance. They’re almost like walking in to a house where you’ve left the door unlocked, and the space feels eerily violated and you know someone has been there, but you can’t quite identify what is specifically wrong. My REM cycles have been violated.

I’ve had a lot of dreams about the baby… or a baby. There’s an old wives’ tale that if you dream about your baby while pregnant, and that baby has an identifiable gender, then that’s what you’re going to have. So far my dreams have included a boy, a girl, and a hermaphrodite.

Yes, last night the herme entered the equation. After the baby was born I opened its diaper to confirm the sex and there was a tiny vagina with a penis on top. And I was horrified.

Not only was my newborn baby a hermaphrodite, but it was part werewolf. The baby was born with full facial hair. A thick man beard.

So a little furry hermaphrodite. And it was not a face only a mother could love. I don’t know that anyone could love that baby.

The pregnancy ‘mones are beginning to eat my brain. I’m at a loss for the other frightening dreams I’ve had recently, or I’d share them. Frankly, I wake up every morning completely freaked out.