I don't even know what to title this.

I had one loooooong dream last night about the baby. I'm still trying to put all the pieces together, but I'll leave out some of the unnecessary details. It was a really frantic and scary dream.

Angelina Jolie wanted to steal my baby. For some reason Angelina, Jennifer Aniston and myself were all vying for Brad Pitt who was actually Brian. He was still my husband in the dream and my baby's father only he looked like Brad Pitt (Who I actually do not find all that attractive). I didn't mind that Jennifer Aniston wanted him because she is nice and we were on good terms, but Angelina was trying to either steal or kill my baby who I was pregnant with. We ended up getting into a huge physical altercation in which she was using some household items as nunchucks and was trying beat me so I would lose the baby because she knew she couldn't have it. I ripped out a TV antenna from the back of an old tv and stabbed her though the throat and killed her. The antenna went straight through and was sticking out the front and back of her neck. She died with her eyes open.

I woke up in some square room with glass walls and a bunch of people I didn't know. The room was like a plane and we were in the air and going to crash land. People were shouting and tumbling in all directions. When I woke up from the crash my baby, who is now an infant, was gone. I was searching for him everywhere. A lot of time had passed and I finally found him in an huge underground room. It was dark and had kind of an orangish glow and steam was coming from the ceilings as if it were an old industrial underground place. There were two rows of chairs that faced each other and and went from one end of the room to the other. The chair rows were so long that the ones on the other side of the room disappeared into a mud wall horizon. Think of it like looking down a tunnel that ends in a speck because it is so long. The chairs looked like old electrocution chairs with rusted metal seats and leather straps. I was walking down the rows and saw my son who had actually turned into a girl and was now about 12 years old. I ran up to hug her, but there were people stopping me from reaching out to her. I started screaming for her and these people in dirty brown smock jackets were placing her in a chair and strapping her in. She wasn't fighting it. She looked right at me with her icy blue eyes as I struggled to do everything I could to get to her. They turned on the chair and she turned into a hard wax statue. The people restraining me let go of me so I could go to her, but when I was almost close enough to touch her waxed figure, the people in the smocks smashed her into a million pieces. I knelt on the floor trying to frantically pick up all the pieces. I was screaming and crying and tears were pouring down my cheeks, and I knew that there was no way to put her back together at that point. It was the last time I was ever going to see her.

In the last part on my dream I was at an elementary school located on a beach and literally in the sand. I was elementary school aged again. I was sitting by myself on a bench utterly broken and depressed that I had witnessed the murder of my child. George Kordopatis came up to me with a brown lunch bag and said something to me, but I didn't even hear him. I was off in my own world. Brian, my husband who now looked like Brian instead of Brad Pitt, sat down across from me and looked at me with an expression of complete loss and powerlessness. His eyes were glossy and red from crying. I could tell he wanted to comfort me but didn't know what to do. He didn't even know how to comfort himself. I got up and walked away and made my way towards the ocean. Camila passed me as she was running back up to the school. Her steps were uncoordinated and sand was flying up behind her. I found a pair of black flip flops abandoned in the sand. They were mens flip flops and about 5 sizes too large for me. I put them on and with a small running start I skidded out into the water. The waves weren't crashing. The water was calm, almost like a lake. I was able to surf the water with my flip flops. I just kept gliding across the top of the water without sinking. Even if I stopped for a moment, I wouldn't sink. I remember feeling a little bit comforted and at peace. It was an empty lonely peace, but for the first time I didn't feel like my heart was getting ripped out of my chest.

And that was the end. I woke up feeling disoriented. I'm still feeling a little off. The emotional intensity of the dream was exhausting. And what's weird is that I am feeling the feelings of loss when my brother died, but it's different. It's like I'm remembering how it was for me as a kid and a sister, but in my dream I was able to feel so much more from the perspective of a mother. I can't really even describe the feeling of....I don't know what the word is....loss isn't strong enough. I don't think there is a single word to describe it. It's more like your heart is completely missing and your entire body is filled with a dark void and everything is numb but aching at the same time. Everything around you keeps going, but you don't really notice it. You see movement of people, but it doesn't mean anything. And it's so quiet. It's agony really. I guess that's the word. But not agony from pain. It's more like and agony from being so empty.

I have never loved anything so much in my life. I guess that's where all the emotion came from. I now love something on a level I have never experienced before and it has opened up a whole new realm of emotional intensity that is really overwhelming. I guess I had to dream it first before I could feel it consciously or I wouldn't be able to handle it. Today feels a lot different than yesterday.