I’m scared of cats, so it’s probably not surprising that one tried to rip my guts out in a dream the other night.
It was fluffy and white, kind of like the spoiled gourmet kitty from the old Fancy Feast commercials. But there was a manic gleam in its eye.
And it was strong! It put one paw on my chest to hold me down, and then used the claws on its other paw to rip my belly open. I woke up terrified.
Deep hidden meaning
I pondered what this dream might signify. The cat was aiming for my stomach and guts. That made me think about fertility. Specifically, getting older and losing my ability to become pregnant.
I’m fine with not having kids, if that’s how things play out. I can also see myself adopting a foster child, or becoming a stepmom. Or finding a partner who enjoys being childfree.
But getting pregnant is a glorious mystery. Am I really happy leaving it to other Sherlocks to solve?
Ghost of a chance
I firmly believe that there are many ways to lead a strong, satisfying life. And many of them don’t have to include parenting.
Still though. It will be heart-rending when my body lets me know it’s no longer going to be easy to conceive. Having that choice taken away will be tough.
The cat of infertility, of aging, of diminished choices is glaring at me from the corner of my subconscious.
What fierce animal in my psyche will chase it away?