Mother In Another Dimension

September 21, 2018

By Sanda Rathamone

"I have been happy, tho' in a dream. I have been happy- and I love the theme: Dreams! in their vivid coloring of life, As in that fleeting, shadowy, misty strife Of semblance with reality, which brings To the delirious eye, more lovely things Of Paradise and Love- and all our own! Than young Hope in his sunniest hour hath known." - Edgar Allan Poe, Dreams. 

All of the seats are folded down. I am in a car. I can’t see my face, just my hands. My body feels like I am hunched over with my legs bent to one side. I am sitting on top of these folded chairs. 

The car looks like the inside of a Honda Pilot, the same car that my father-in-law drives. 

At first, I think I am alone, but then hear my husband talking. I can’t really make out what he is saying, but know that it is his voice and that it is coming from behind the car; I can’t see him. My eyes move from watching my hands to what is now in front of me: A baby.

A baby appears right before me, laying on top of the folded chairs. The baby’s head is facing me, looking up at me, and its legs and feet are pointed towards the opened back door of the car. The baby squirms in its yellow blanket, swaddled tight. Too tight. I could see its arms trying to get loose and free. The baby looks very uncomfortable, agitated. 

I think to myself, “Should I unloosen the swaddle and let the baby out?” “Is it okay to do that?” I don’t question if the baby is mine or who this baby had belonged to or where it came from. Or why it is here and how did it get here. 

I crawl over to the baby and decide that maybe lifting its head up would do something to help it. The baby starts to vomit and white stuff slowly pours into a long straight line out of its mouth. I am freaked out, so I sit the baby up while white vomit continues to flow. I can’t smell it or maybe it doesn’t have a smell, I don’t know. 

Somehow, the baby is no longer swaddled. The baby is now a toddler, probably a one-year-old, and is wearing a shirt. A very long shirt that looks kind of like a baby girl's dress. It wasn’t an ordinary shirt, this shirt was... animated? It looked so life-like and real, as if the shirt was showing a movie. On the shirt was what it looked like a field of grass and yellow flowers under very bright sunlight, it reminds me of spring or summer. But I can’t make out if the yellow flowers are sunflowers. It’s just yellow and there are lots of them. 

I don’t remember if there was any vomit on the shirt, but the flow of the vomit slowly came to a stop. And when it stopped, the toddler smiled at me. Not in a creepy way, but in a way to say, “It’s okay. I’m okay,” and “Thank you.” I told my husband that it was probably my fault. “I forgot to burp him after his feeding and that’s why he threw up.” I felt bad that he now had an empty stomach. I was embarrassed by my “new mom” mistake. 

This was a dream I had a few days ago when I took a two hour nap. It seems as though all of my dreams lately are about babies. One of my latest blog, Kissed By An Angel was about a baby and just like this new dream, I am still baffled and slightly amused.

When I told my husband about this new dream, he said, "Hmm. Maybe it's you in another dimension." I wouldn't be surprised, all of these baby dreams feel so real and I can remember most, if not, all of the details. These dreams are so vivid, sometimes lucid.

Most of the time, "the dreams" (I call them "the dreams" or "these dreams" because I have them so often) are almost like a memory or an actual event, as if it has happened or is happening while I am dreaming. As if I have lived these memories before or living them right now, in another life.

I have read books about pre-birth communication: Stories of the Unborn Soul by Elisabeth Hallett, Spirit Babies by Walter Makichen, and Cosmic Cradle: Spiritual Dimensions of Life before Birth by Elizabeth & Neil Carman, Ph.D.s. But these books cannot fully answer why I am having these dreams.

Am I really communicating with my babies through dreams? Are these my future babies? Were these my babies in a past life?

Am I calling in these dreams, even though I told God "not to give me anymore because they cause so much heartache, but only give them to me unless these babies are real." Are these dreams from God or babies or am I just subconsciously making up dreams about the life I wish I had? I don't know nor do I think I'll truly ever know, even though I thought I knew.

In my heart, I just know that "the dreams" are coming to me for a reason (which I am not sure what that reason is) and they make me feel like I can only enjoy motherhood in another life. Sometimes, the dreams make me happy because they bring about an energy and a certainty that I am a mother, that I do have a baby, or babies. Sometimes, the dreams make me sad because although they feel so real, I wake up from them knowing that I am not living that life.

I don't have a baby to feed and change. I don't have a baby to clothe and care. I don't have a baby to love and hold. This life sucks. I just want to live in my dreams. Or, maybe this life right now is the dream and the dream is actually my real life, in which my husband calls it "the other dimension."

I wish I was in the other dimension, I don't like this dimension. I don't like this version. I don't like losing my baby. I don't like being a childless mother. I don't like being in this world full of pregnant women and me wishing that I was one of them. I don't like wishing that right now, I could be rubbing my full moon of a belly, waiting for my baby to enter this world or how I could be putting my would-be-almost-24-month-old-son down for bed.

I don't like wishing that Elijah is real on earth and not just in my dreams. 

That new dream... it was Elijah. His color is yellow and his flower is the sunflower. I know it was him. I just know it, it has to be.

He would be a toddler today, almost two. He would be two on October 30th or November 1st.

(Related Read: Yellow For Elijah)

Right now, I would be a mother to an almost-two-year-old and that makes me sad. I'm sad because I don't think I look like a mother who has an almost-two-year-old and so badly, wants to be. I feel like a "wannabe." But the dreams... they don't make me a wannabe, they make me an "am" as in I AM a mother (to an almost-two-year-old and maybe to many other babies).

I don't know if I am being led by my dreams or if my dreams are a glimpse of the future or if they are encouragements to continue believing in my dreams. Yet, my "dreams" of being a mother to a child birthed from my womb often feels like they are only just dreams...

It scares me to realize that I may only dream about "my babies" for years, until I finally have my babies or perhaps never at all. These dreams began long before we were pregnant with Elijah, before my husband and I ever thought about having babies. But ever since Elijah died, the baby dreams would come and go, some of him, some of babies that might or could have been ours.

Since the halfway mark of this year, the dreams now come to me almost every other day or every other week; it used to be once or twice a month or months at a time. Yet, every time I have these dreams, I am always surprised by how many details I can recall, which makes me wonder if the dreams are really just dreams? Maybe they're more than just dreams and like what my husband said: "me in another dimension."

Today, I am now three days late. 

There are no signs of Aunt Flo and I have been wiping, hoping not to see a speck, drop, or streak of blood, like I usually do around this time of the month. I haven't yet bought or taken a test and not sure if I want to or ever will. I will probably wait it out for a week or two, that is if I make it that far.

A part of me wants to know (that I am not), so that I can just move on and stop worrying about it. The other part doesn't want to know because I am afraid of feeling my heart sink even lower, even though my expectations this time around are not as high as before. I am highly unlikely to be pregnant. Since Elijah died, it is like two pink lines don’t exist anymore. And like I have done so many times before, I used the due date calculator for a baby that probably isn't even a baby. I don't know why I do this to myself, but it makes me excited and depressed at the same time.

I think it's because Elijah died four months before his due date and ever since then, due dates are a thing I obsess about. I guess I just want to envision a life up until and after the due date. Or, maybe I hope that having a due date presents some kind of permanence in my life (besides death) or something to look forward to. Again, I don't know.

If I am pregnant this month, I would be around 5 weeks and the baby's due date would be May 19, 2019. It reminds me so much of Elijah's birthday: June 16, 2016.

I don't know what that new dream meant or what it was telling me, but it would have been lovely to know that it was a glimpse into the future of this dimension.

If I am not pregnant, I hope that I can somehow make peace with it (after mourning for days). I hope that I can make peace with another lost dream, living in another dimension, where without a doubt I am a mother.

With love,

Must Read:
Read the full story about Elijah:
Elijah's Story: From Gender Reveal To A Spontaneous Delivery

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