I'm fourteen weeks into this pregnancy, and the dreams are back.

I've always been a vivid dreamer. At night, I'm whisked away to a magical land where I take part in elaborate, complex plots that unfold with just a dash of my real life in them to make them weirdly familiar. I almost always remember my dreams, often down to details of setting, time of day, colors in my surroundings, differences in the people I know (you were there, but you had a moustache! A long, Yosemite-Sam stache.). In the morning, I often have to lay in bed for a few minutes...not to fully wake up, but to process the drama of last night's dreamland offering.

Pregnancy seems to turn this feature of my non-waking life up a notch. My memories of my dreams are even more vivid. Often the real turns surreal (And then your moustache started singing to us!). I'm frequently traveling to places I've been, and everything is different. Last night, I dreamed I was back in Oxford, and all the streets had been renamed and repaved in rainbow-colored bricks. I only had one day to navigate the city, and by the time I figured out which street was which (oh, okay...Walton is now called St. Cunningham's, and all the bricks are pink) it was time to catch my bus back to London. I didn't have time to visit any of my old favorite spots.

I like my crazy dreams. I love waking up in the morning with what seems like a novel's-worth of strange new material in my brain. I even love boring people with the details of my weird dreams (sorry!). I know no one cares what I dreamed about, but I can't resist sharing.

Strangely, I haven't had any delivery-room dreams yet. They were pretty common when I was pregnant with Charlotte. Perhaps this reflects my lower level of anxiety about the delivery of baby #2.

I hope to put together a video of Charlotte sometime this week. Watch for it here!