I know a lot of us in this sad circle are often deeply affected by our dreams. We dream of seeing the children that we've lost or reliving the horror of losing them all over again. The dreams are sometimes comforting, sometimes disturbing and they sometimes have the power to affect our mood for many days. I had such a dream last night. It didn't seem to have a narrative, rather it was this patchwork quilt of scenes. At one point I was working in an office and it was either late at night or the weekend, because there were only a few of us around trying to finish an urgent project. It was mostly men in the group and as we were working and chatting they started talking about their children. They passed around photos and told anecdotes of the cute antics their kids got up to. At one point one of them turned to me and said how lucky I was not to be tied down with a family, that it must be a great feeling being able to do whatever I wanted. My first instinct was to escape this uncomfortable conversation, which I did. I ran to the bathroom and hid in a stall, but instead of breaking down in tears, I started thinking about what my co-worker had just said. He was right -- I could do whatever I wanted. I didn't have to sleep-walk my way around life just waiting and hoping that someday I would have another child so that everything could be okay again. Because if I'm honest with myself I have to respect the fact that that may never happen. I may not get a chance to have another child. And I have to find someway to be okay with that. By the same token, things with my husband might not work out and I have to resolve my feelings about that.

My dream went on with a variety of incongruous scenes. At one point I was at a (flower) nursery where a florist was walking through the gardens with a bride, pointing out possible selections for her bouquet. Only the bride was wearing this ridiculous Elizabethan-style gown with four foot wide hip bustles. I couldn't believe that no one told her how silly she looked, but her bridesmaids trailed behind her in lavender tulle completely oblivious. Then I was on a small beach and there were these two men in tuxedos sitting at the water's edge and talking about life. One of them picked up a dead seagull that was lying beside him and told his friend to rip it open. His friend did and inside there was this beautiful irridescent black feather with a white tip. Somehow this was supposed to provide some mystical insight into the meaning of life, but I didn't quite grasp it. Then this man, who I obviously had some kind of history with, came up to me on the beach and asked me if I was ready to make a decision. I think he wanted me to run away with him, but I wasn't sure if that was what I was supposed to do. So I turned away and started walking down the beach where I saw a bunch of suburban couples having a bonfire party. They were playing volley-ball and getting really drunk and all of the men were making passes at their friends' wives. It all seemed so Bacchinalian (in a bad way) and I knew I didn't want that life, whatever it was.

This dream doesn't have an ending. It flitted around for a little while longer and then I just woke up, feeling -- I don't know, feeling like there were many possibilities for the next stage in my life and that I need to keep an open mind about which path I take. So today I'm in a very contemplative mood and I have a feeling that this dream and all of its bizarre uncertainty will stay with me for a while. It's comforting in an odd way to know that my subconscious desires, fears and motivations are able to make themselves known when I need to understand them most. What I'm going to do about them at this point, though, is still anyone's guess...

I'm prone to nightmares, have been since I was a small child. I think I started sleeping very deeply as a response and hardly ever remember my dreams.

Many possibilities in life is an encouraging message from your subconscious.