I dreamed a dream?

Dear Blog,

I have interesting dreams. Not the generic scary dreams boys have about fighting killer zombies or flying through the air; yet, these dreams fill me just the same amount of fear. The dreams that have plagued me lately concern parenting.

The one that seems to come to mind over and over involves changing diapers. That may not seem scary but when you haven't changed diapers before now it can jolt you awake. The sensation jolts you awake with more fright than the inevitable doom of being over-come with Zombies or plummeting rapidly to your death from a sky-scraper.

Now this dream, the one about diapers, didn't seem like any ordinary experience. I remember standing over the child, preparing myself for some inevitable doom. The child lay sprawled out, ready to deliver to me some ill-gift; no doubt the same feeling as when you know you're receiving a white-elephant gift with the same usefulness--to be recycled or thrown away. As the diaper came off the nightmare truly began. The diaper was not only soiled beyond belief but more excrement began spraying everywhere. Everything was covered in the brown dudu: the room, the walls, the floors, the dressers, the clothes; it literally felt liked I was caked in a warm sweaty layer of feces. After realizing the scope of how far the mess went, that I then realized that my eyes were watering, my nose clogged up, my throat stuffed with lethal spores, so much so that I began to choke on the fumes and blackout. The blackout was actually me waking up in one swift movement that I looked out into the dark bedroom and fixed my eyes to check if the layers of poo were indeed real.

I don't think I have been more traumatized by any other dream than I was with this one. Rachel said it won't be that bad. Although she had some wonderful stories about changing cloth diapers that sound just as scary, maybe even more. She's probably way more prepared than I. I think we'll have to take some pre-parenting classes for this kind of stuff. Although there's nothing like being thrown in a cold pool as a child when you're learning how to swim; despite the fact that you don't know how to swim almost the freezing cold water gives you enough incentive to flail your arms and kick your legs in a frenzy to learn how to swim and get out of the pool. I don't think I'll be thrown into a cold pool of poo if that's what you're thinking will help me to get over the fears of changing diapers, but, maybe I will be swimming in something.

Thanks Blog,

Vico