As a toddler, I would often wake up in hysterical fits, screaming and crying, whenever I had my most frequently recurring nightmare. The dream had the same plot each time: My mother came to me, and put her hand on my shoulder, and told me she was pregnant. I was going to be a “big sister.” I would let out a scream so visceral in my dream that I ended up screaming in real life too—as I slept. “No, no, no,” I would yell over and over. As the dream went, my mother had the baby, and eventually I was totally forgotten by her.

Fortunately, every time I had that dream, I woke up from it, still an only child. A much gentler reality would await me: homemade breakfast, hugs, and reassurances that no other children were on the way. My nightmares often alternated between this, and the evil characters

See Full Page