I was with Number Five, walking thru this wooded area near our house. It was Fall, with orange and yellow leaves everywhere. She ran ahead of me and through these leaves that were falling from the trees like rain. Two older gentlemen ahead of us, standing on the path that we were on. They were dressed in suits and hats and smiled at her as they pointed toward a hill just behind them. They were beckoning her to go up this hill. I yelled out to her to go to her right. Suddenly, I was in front of her and she was following me. There was a pit in the ground, a drop down from where we were walking. Carved out, perfect edges. I heard a baby crying and began to make my way into this pit. Wet leaves were everywhere. Number Five began to climb down behind me even though I told her to stay where she was. I dug thru the leaves with my hands. It was Little Bird, in this pit. But she didn't have a face. I turned and looked up, wondering how I was going to climb out of the pit while carrying both girls, and saw my mother standing at the edge of it, looking down at me as I held this faceless, crying baby. I realized that it wasn't a pit. It was a grave.
And then I woke up. Two hours ago. I couldn't fall back to sleep after that. I don't know what this dream is supposed to signal, but I do know enough to pay attention to it. A few months ago, I was clearing space on my hard drive when I came across a log I began keeping almost four years ago. Dreams. As much as I could remember and as soon as I would awake, I would write them all down. I started paging thru the passages and saw a pattern. Every few weeks, over the course of several months, I would dream of a newborn baby girl with black hair. And, my mother, who's been gone since 2003. The most significant of these dreams was dated April 2008. I was walking behind my old elementary school, pushing a baby carriage. In this carriage was that little, black-haired baby girl. She began to cry, so I stopped and picked her up. I unbuttoned her sleeper to find a red rash in the shape of a footprint on her belly. I ran down the street to my mother's house, with this baby in my arms. My mother met us on her front porch. She examined the baby and said, "Don't worry. It's Scarlet Fever, but she's going to be okay."
After finding that entry, I literally could not breathe. Like a panic attack. And after reviewing the rest of the journal, apparently, the pattern was that my mother was trying to warn me. About Little Bird. About her coming so early. I wouldn't call this dream thing a psychic ability, or even a sixth sense. I don't know what it is. But these certainly aren't the first instances of it. I've predicted the pregnancies of three separate friends by this, as well as issues between MFH and I long before they even came to pass. I don't write down every dream, just the one's that tend to stick with me. The one's I can't shake the emotion of. Last night was one of them.
I'm putting it on here not only to vent it, in hopes that I might be able to go back to sleep afterward, but to also have this entry to look back on later. Just in case....
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