I had a dream that I was pregnant and we were walking out of town with a group of strangers.
It was a long walk on a dusty road but the sky was the most beautiful blue.
We had been in this town we didn’t know and were looking for the pastry advertised as the big attraction. A sticky combination.
There were no signs, you know, just a series of questions that eventually lead to one local leading us through a clothing shop to this back room with long tables covered by checked tablecloths.
The pastry was delicious. It felt like the greatest thing I had ever tasted. I looked over at you and your face said it all.
We walked out and found this group headed to the next town. We hung back, so even though we weren’t alone, it was just us.
And we mostly spoke without words. I was so careful to notice every gesture. The way your shoulders hung. The way your feet met the road.
Back there, we were joking and smiling. Having the time of our lives beneath this dreamed blue sky.
It was you but it didn’t look like you, you know? But I knew it was you because there’s this way of knowing without knowing.
As we continued, something happened in my body that told me I had lost the babies. We were having twins.
I looked over and knew by your eyes that you knew we had lost them.
Thinking back on the dream, I’m amazed there was no blood. In real life there is always blood.
But we kind of shrugged. There was no reaching out or toward one another. I don’t remember you squeezing my hand to assure me that it would be okay. I don’t remember you feeling like it was a big deal.
We kept walking like nothing had happened. Like you did not understand the symbolism in it, you know?
I think in that dream, I was just happy to walk beside you. Part of me never believed the twins would be okay. I had no idea what I had actually lost.
I think in real life you knew, though. Maybe you were sad, but the face you made was, like, more disappointed than anything.
At the time you didn’t know how I handle disappointing someone.
I mean, they were in my belly.