These dreams

Last night, after we watched Idol (if Jason Castro doesn't get voted off, btw, there is no justice), I puttered around the kitchen and then went to bed. Suddenly, the night was pierced by a scream. Mine. I was having a nightmare the baby was falling, and I couldn't catch him. M came running up the stairs and tried to convince my half-asleep ass that the baby was fine. I just kept sobbing and telling him the baby was falling.

I have these dreams every night. Either he's falling, or in the sheets, or I can't find him, or someone's stolen him and everyone's blaming me. Or I'll reach out and touch M's head thinking it's Boo. They are really unsettling. I'm told they're a result of my hormones coupled with my motherhood instincts kicking into high gear, and that they should end by six months. I hope they end sooner than that -- I need some damn sleep. So does M.

In a dream room with ripped curtains

Ever since we bought our house in 2002, I have had variations of the same dream over and over again: That I find secret rooms filled with stuff from previous owners. Sometimes said rooms are haunted, and I don't want to go in there. Other times, a door will appear off a room that already exists, leading to another room filled with rags and junk. Sometimes the room is set up like an extra bedroom; other times it's just a catchall.

Last night, I got to work in my dreams. I grabbed a bunch of people to help me clean the rooms that had appeared in my attic. Except every time we removed something, it would reappear. In the dream, M and I figured out that our house's former owners had added the addition. It was all very strange.

In reality, my house is a hip-roof colonial (the roof comes to a flat part in the middle rather than being pitched), so my attic is tiny and not really usable. I wonder what these dreams mean?