I have a poem up at Glow today about the recurring dreams I had when I was pregnant with Joseph. I used to believe something about dreams. If not that they could be prophetic, then that they pointed us toward something. We could learn something from them.
Now, I’m not so sure.
I don’t really want to believe that they tell us anything at all about waking life. Because, in this pregnancy I have dreamed again of houses. It scares me. I don’t want it to mean anything about this baby’s fate.
And still, there is that dream my father had a few nights before Joseph died, the night before we drove up to visit them. In his dream, Death came.
How can I not believe in that?