It’s dark in my grandparents’ old house in the gold mining town

I am sitting in the living room, resting in the imponderability of this cold darkness as if floating in mid air. Numbness fills my limbs, crashed on that old couch. Trying to get used to the absence of light, my eyes pause and rest a bit on a dimly lit square on the wall.

Suddenly, someone’s profile passes in front of it. I recognize him. It’s been ten years. I jump to my feet and go out on the porch. My head moves left and right a few times looking for his tall, thin figure, but there is no sight of him any longer. I see two other men downstairs, chatting in the yard, under the open sky, in that strange night light that wipes away details and contrasts, turning each silhouette into a deep shadow which you risk getting sucked up into.

I seem to have something like an orange in my hand and keep trying to throw it at those people in several failed attempts to get their attention. They can’t hear me calling out and my arm seems so airy, so light and so transparent, it’s the shadow of the shadow of an arm. And it refuses to obey. My movements lack strength and seem more like gusts of wind gently swinging a curtain hanging at an open window on a peaceful summer night.

That’s when I realize I am dead.

A freedom forever lost

“I’m right here, love. What are you doing over there? Playing? Hmm? I can feel you.” I tell my baby while caressing my belly this morning. He’s woken me up from a strange dream.

Having gone through some old clutter in a house and picked some wool flowers to keep, I was heading to work on my bike. And I stopped at this house up on a hill to visit my lover – a former university colleague I’ve never been attracted to, actually. As soon as she sees me in her garden, she comes up to me and kisses my lips. I tell her I’m going to work for an hour and a half and she says it’s too long to wait for me and she’s going to this journalistic evening event somewhere in the city. Something I wouldn’t be interested in, she adds making sure she’s got the evening for herself.

I’m feeling lonely and I know I’m no longer on the most eligible bachelorette list. Not since I’ve got my bump, anyway. But she doesn’t seem to mind the bump. Nor the absence of the father, for that matter. She’s got a five year old boy herself, being raised by her parents. I tend to be clingy at this point and want more of her. It’s like I’m trying to fill this vacancy – the life partner vacancy. And I hate that about myself. I swallow my disappointment and put on some sparkling, slightly transparent clothes, mount my bike and head to work.

As I’m waking up, I’m feeling happy it was just a dream. It’s not the first dream of its kind – my subconscious clearly projects its feelings of loneliness, anxiety, fear of the absence of the baby’s father. The kind of dream that makes me feel an acute loss. There’s a kind of freedom that’s now lost forever. Because no matter what happens to my relationship, I’ll always be a mother from now on. Can’t change that. And it involves so much attachment it often scares me stiff. On the other hand, it also involves so much love. A unique kind of love. They say you’ve never (been) loved this way before. That’s gotta be worth paying the price. You give up a kid of freedom for a whole world of love. It’s a deal!

24 weeks pregnant