Dream-Goats in the Refugee House

Ok, this one was a doozy and I am going to struggle to capture it all before it fizzles out in my brain.

I was in a house, ostensibly newly living there with a huge family. It was clear from the way the front door was boarded up that we were all squatters in an abandoned area. There was barely room for the people, but there were also animals in the house. Not just dogs and cats (my dachshund Ember was also with me) but farm animals like goats and chickens that moved from the backard to the living room. The goats were female and being used for milk. Much talk was being spent on getting the guy down the street with a male goat to come over and breed his goat with ours.

There was music being made and a general atmosphere of badly funded but bohemian and somewhat nomadic existence. I was new to it and it was a bit uncomfortable for me to have no privacy and no real possessions of my own. The men sized me up for my sexual potential, but rarely talked to me.

Some younger man noticed my elk antler Inanna necklace (I own this in real life) and was talking to me about it. It was the first real conversation I had had in a while, and I ended up making out with him. Even so, it didn't really feel like a real connection, just better than most.

I spent some time in the dream taking care of a baby girl that one of the other women had. I was feeding her some mango pudding, and it was getting all over her face in a sticky mess.

Basically, it was just me and my dog in this chaotic atmosphere with goats and babies and messy overcrowded conditions. So freaking strange.

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Dream-Here, You Take This!

I had another variation on the "sudden baby" dream last night. I sorta dislike that dream because it is mostly an indicator of stress, kind of a parenting "in the weeds" dream.

I dreamed that a car pulled up in front of my house and an African American woman got out and was shouting for me to come out. She was well dressed but disheveled. When I went outside, she opened the door to the backseat of the car and pulled out a very tiny baby girl. She thrust it at me and said. "Here, you take this. I can't handle it right now." While I stood stunned cradling the little one in my arms, she got back in the car and sped off. I didn't even know the baby's name.

The baby had medium-mocha skin that was very dry, and frowzy, unkempt hair. She had only the clothing and diaper she was wearing. She felt a little cold to me, but she wasn't crying.

I was, to say the least, unprepared. We had no formula, no diapers, no clothes for one that small. The crib was disassembled in the garage as it is now. I think we were also broke, so just throwing money at the problem wasn't going to work.

I got out my purple sari from Bali that Kari gave me years ago and made a sort of makeshift sling to carry the baby against my body. She rooted around at my breast because she was hungry, and I felt a pang of sadness that I had no milk for her.

The last thing in the dream was me trying to turn our car seat to be rear-facing. Anyone who has ever installed a car seat knows what a pain they can be to get right. It was really frustrating, and I was still trying to figure out how to feed and clothe this baby.

I woke up feeling all groggy and out of it. I also reminded myself that if Little A gets reunited with her bio family, there are literally hundreds of children in Washoe County alone that could use my mothering care. I don't know if I have the wherewithal to deal with "the system" that much, but Little A is certainly not my last chance to be a mother if she should have to leave. The court system is just so, how shall I say, messed up. And this process has so wounded Tony and I that I just don't know if we could go on. It is too heartbreaking.

I hate having that dream where I have a new baby that I am unprepared for thrust upon me. I have had that dream more times than I can count. When I wake up, I always wonder who that baby is. I also wonder why I would long to be a mother all my life, only to have achieving that so damn hard.

But I found a kernel of strength last night after having a protracted cry. I AM Little A's mother. Just ask her. No matter what happens, she will always be my daughter. She has changed me for life, altered me down to the bones.

I know this is far from over and far from resolved. We have a long way to go. When she moved in with us, it was projected that we would finalize an adoption of her this month. Now, everything is hanging on a trial that is set for April, and the outcome is far from certain.

Little A's birthstone is Aquamarine. I am going to buy myself an aquamarine ring and wear it on my middle finger. I may not have any rights, but I am a mom. It's my thing.