I had a dream about babies last night. Just holding and coddling a crying baby for what felt like hours. I woke up feeling empty and confused. I found myself thinking about children as I got ready for work; my resolve not to have any of my own.
I stand by it.
There are no newborns in my future. Neither James nor I have the time for something that requires so much attention. And yet…
It’s all because of Lydia.
She’s a new hire who is incredibly enthusiastic to the point that I want to put a pencil through my eye. I don’t even want to hurt her I just want her to leave me alone. She’s so fucking nosy but she’s getting her work done and picking it up quickly. I admire work ethic more than a mild annoyance so I’ll put up with her for the time being. But yesterday she found me during my lunch hour and just sat down and started talking. She asked me questions about my life, and my family. I kept my answers brief and as non-descript as possible but then she asked me why my husband and I never had children of our own.
I’d known this woman for a day and a half. Seriously? You don’t just ask people those kinds of questions – especially if you’re just co-workers. And yet…
I dreamt about babies.
I looked up dream meanings because there’s no way in hell my subconscious wants me to give birth. Apparently a crying baby means I am neglecting some part of my life. I don’t know what my mind thinks I’m lacking but it’s going to be bothering me all day. All because of Lydia.
I shouldn’t put so much stock in dream analysis. It’s all new-aged bullshit, completely open to interpretation. And yet…
What could I possibly be lacking? It can’t be my job; I’ve been very successful and may even pitch for a raise once year-end is done. Heather and I have been getting a long fairly well and despite Lydia’s social misconducts, she’s also tolerable. Life at home has been quite stagnant; my sister calls daily wanting to talk to Jason and every day he refuses. James and I have hit a steady rhythm of work and play with the occasional twist to keep things interesting. It’s perfect. Playing a serial killer has been absolutely hilarious; I took a whole hand on Friday instead of just a finger – the news says “the local serial killer is escalating”. I haven’t been named yet. I’d kind of like a name. We’ll see what the public come up with. I think it’s in poor taste to choose your own serial killer name.
What would you name me?
I’m completely open to suggestions. Something with appendages and limbs. Something pun-y. I leave it in your capable hands while I contemplate whatever’s missing in my life.
As always, dear readers,