For the first time in my life, I’m not sprinting to accomplish the next step. I’ve graduated college, moved out of my parents’ house, moved across a continent, moved back, gotten a great job, am in a stable relationship and have begun the life-long task of repaying my debt to society in the form of the most obnoxious school loans any sadist would admire, all in the same two pair of leggings.
I’m done. I did it. Uno. Yahtzee. Olly, olly oxen free (I just realized my kids won’t know what that means).
So now, I’ve started having these constant dreams about being pregnant, and giving birth and being in love with my spawn. But then I wake up, and if I so much as see a Pamper’s commercial I cringe and gag simultaneously.
“You have the weirdest case of baby fever,” my boyfriend said.
And now, I get to tell you why I hate the Huffington Post.
In a fit of boredom, because, you know, I’m done with everything, I decided to Google “pregnancy dreams meaning.” No, I’m not proud to admit that I did this. The shame is just, like, ridiculous.
One of the first things that came up in the search results was a story from the Huffington Post, featuring an interview. With a psychic. About what dreams about pregnancy mean.
This is the same site from which so many of my Facebook friends are sharing “breaking news.”
People, if you’re getting your news from a site whose biggest accomplishment is its opinion tab, written by stay-at-home dads, you need to rethink your life choices.
CNN.com. That’s all the more I’ll say.
Anyway, after completely bypassing this story, the way I do all of the Huffington Post’s stories, I found in other results (because, really, is it possible to find a reputable source on decoding dreams?) which explained that dreaming about being pregnant and giving birth may be a sign that you’re missing something in life, or that you don’t have time for something you used to do. In general, it supposedly means that I need to find another way to spend my time that isn’t stuffing my face while watching “Gilmore Girls” on Netflix.
But thank God it’s not baby fever, ammiright?
So, if this is at all accurate, and I’m not just another sucker for a horoscope reading that says, “You’ll have to do something today,” then my subconscious is telling me I need more. I’ve just spent the last year of my life running all around the United States and validating myself as a human, and I need to do more with my life.
… I get it.
I told my boyfriend today that I couldn’t wait for this next year just to settle down and stabilize ourselves financially. I actually used that exact phrase– “stabilize ourselves financially.” I’m 23 years old. Just a year ago, I was drunk-yacking into a toilet, bawling my eyes out and telling my equally obliterated friend that I loved her. I was normal.
So, yeah, maybe I need something more to keep myself from mentally aging at warp-speed. But what? I’m not a novelist, or a sports fan, and I don’t have enough of an addictive personality to give heroin a real shot.
I see other people my age having real babies, not just dream-babies, and getting married, but I’m not ready for that. First of all, you need money to do either of those, and also, just a year ago I was drunk-yacking and thinking about skipping class (but not actually doing it, Mom). How can I have a baby when I am a baby, without any money? I am a giant lady-child who needs a hobby that isn’t making other people.