Spain Dad, a baby blog

I had two dreams last night.

Dream One: The Hurricane
In my first dream April and I were hiking with a group of people to the top of a volcano on a deserted island. April was eight months pregnant, like she is in real life, and seemed to be keeping up with the rest of the group, even though the island itself was like a pile of rocks tangled in jungle brush.

Near the top of the volcano the wind changed directions. I couldn’t make out what the people hiking in front of me were saying, but I could tell they were worried about something.

In a matter of minutes the wind was blowing so strongly we could barely keep our footing. The sky began churning overhead and the water turned black. We were in a hurricane.

Everyone in the group began climbing faster, looking for shelter from the storm. We scattered off in different directions, each thinking only of self preseravtion.

The ground underneath my feet began to shake, and suddenly I was seized with fear. I had left April behind. Just as I looked over my shoulder and saw her bracing herself between two rocks, the ground between us crumbled, literally splitting the island into two halves.

April began to cry as both halves of the island began slowly drifting apart, the canyon between us growing impossibly wide.

Dream Two: Puppy Love
April and I were in Madrid visiting our friend Ester whose dog was giving birth. Her dog’s name is Pam, and she’s a poodle.

Pam was giving birth in a hospital just like most women do in Spain. She had an IV in her arm. Her contractions were being monitored.
Nothing about this seems unusual, except that she looked ridiculously small to be in that hospital bed.

Ester stood next to Pam, telling her to push, wiping the sweat off her forehead, and tightly holding Pam’s small little paw in her fist.

The doctor was just about to deliver the baby, and he said, “I need someone to catch the baby.” He looked around the room. “Now!” he said. Everyone looked at me, so I stepped forward.

Pam pushed once more, whimpering, and the baby slid into my hands. “It’s a girl,” the doctor said, cutting the umbilical cord.

I cradled the puppy in my arms and noticed how blood-shot her eyes were. It didn’t matter. She was the cutest puppy in the world.

Observations:

• Last night just before we went to bed our friend Laurie who is staying with us called her parents in Florida to see if they had evacuated for the hurricane.
• Yesterday, out of the blue, April asked me, “Are you afraid of me going into labor?”
• April says I may be feeling guilty for thinking puppies are cuter than babies (which is true by the way, I do think puppies are cuter than babies, hands down).

Anyone care to interpret?