Dreamin' dreams

Dating back to my time in a crib, my sleeping hours have been plagued with dreams. Not the regular ho-hum dreams like being outdoors naked or falling through the air. No, that would be normal. For me, my dreams are violent-infused, horrific, Quentin Tarrantino-scary, yet funny, kind of dreams.

I've had dreams where I was taught how to use a gun (yet I've never held one or seen one in my life), transported into bodies of criminals, I've participated in incredible feats of crime, I've watched people being harmed in ways that I don't think the craziest criminal has thought of (and won't share here, should any crazys read this blog and get an idea), I've seen my loved ones get taken from me time and time again, and the list goes on and on.

Not only are they bizarre and outright frightening, but they are so vivid that I have to remind myself that they aren't real and the events playing in my mind didn't really happen - at least not in my life. I sound crazy, right?

Well, since becoming prego, the dreams have become more frequent and surprisingly more outlandish than ever before. Most mornings, I awake perplexed that my mind could have conjured up such scenarios. I've dreamt scenes that porno directors and those who avidly watch their movies would die for; there have been the medical scenarios that Dr. House himself wouldn't be able to figure out and there have been the detailed, mobster-themed sort that Scorsese would create.

What's more - and quite hillarious if you ask me - I'm told that I've been more vocal and active while I'm dreaming. See, Mr. Oh is a very light sleeper and on occassional mornings he reports what I said or did. I don't remember any of what he reports, so I'm a little suspect of his reportings. However, since Mr. Oh is devoid of creativity, I can't believe he could make up some of the things I supposedly say or do. There have been nights where he has heard me moan in utter ecstasy, mumble words with serious force like "centrifuge" (which I had to actually look up its definition), and scream out in sheer terror. Most recently, however, I've physically lashed out.

The other night a sequence came to me where we were at a lake in a beautiful park. Mr. Oh and I were with friends when a child (I couldn't tell the gender) was flapping its arms in the water, screaming for help. Noticing the child in distress, I yelled for Mr. Oh to save the child. Unfortunately, he didn't get there in time and the child drowned. Although this was my dream - and Mr. Oh was none the wiser as to what was happening in my mind's eye - my unconscious-self felt he deserved to be punished. So, I turned over in bed, yelled at Mr. Oh about how could he let the child drown and wacked him square in the jewels. Then, satisfied that he got his just desserts, I turned back over and returned to my regular deep slumber. Nice, eh?

I remember the dream, but I do not remember what I did in the real world. As Mr. Oh recounted the evening's assault, I was mortified, which, to add insult to injury, caused me to break out into fits of giggles!

I'm convinced it's my hormones causing my mind to play tricks on me. I have 3 months to go, what will my mind will me to do next? Perhaps Mr. Oh should sleep with armour for the time being.