I guess it started off with my mum. She told me that early in her pregnancy, she believed that she was having a boy. She had picked out the name Sean-Patrick if I had been born a boy, and Danielle, if I was a girl. Late in her pregnancy she dreamed that she was walking down an old country road. It was a beautiful autumn day, and the leaves were falling around here. Soon, she noticed a scrap of paper floating down amongst the leaves, and she noticed that a name was written on it. The name Gabrielle was scrawled across the scrap of paper in a child's handwriting. She knew at that moment that I'd be born a girl, and that my name was supposed to be Gabrielle. She told me many years later that old souls announced their arrival, and she thought I had been an old soul. Though I don't know why I would have named myself Gabrielle since I hate the name. Yes, I have issues with being called "Gabby Gator" early on in life. Whenever I complained about it, my mum would laugh and tell me that I only had myself to blame. Oh well.
I always remembered having very vivid dreams. Sometimes my dreams seemed too real to be a dream. I considered that maybe I suffered from waking hallucinations. Not quite awake, but not quite asleep. I've actually woken myself up by the sound of my own voice. Chattering away with someone I had been speaking to in my dreams. Sleepwalking, yes. I had that too. It wasn't until later on that the dreams started affecting me.
I had a dream one morning that my neighbours house was on fire. I woke up thinking that it was an odd dream, and it troubled me greatly during school. I came home and my stepfather announced that our neighbour had nearly burned her house down by causing a fire in the kitchen. Maybe it was this event that bothered me, or maybe it was something else at work when I had another dream about a house fire. Only this one wasn't at the neighbours house. It was mine. The dream bothered me so much, that even during the days I was happy to come home and see the house still standing.
I began obsessing about it and started thinking about things that I wanted to save, should anything happen to the house while I was gone. One morning, this feeling was so strong, that I ran back into the house, pulled out my new leather jacket, and sprinted to catch the bus.
During mid-term exams, my teacher got a call and sent me to the office, where I was informed that my house was on fire. Of course, the house burnt to the ground. I could only think about the dream I had and my obsession with saving something important.
I didn't have too many dreams that bothered me until I was pregnant with my first child. During my first ultrasound, the tech told me that she couldn't be 100% sure, but she thought I'd be having a girl. I was pretty sure that the tech was right. Until I had the dream. In my dream, I was talking on the phone, and a small toddler had wrapped himself around my leg. I looked down and saw this little boy with curly hair and a devilish smile on his face. He looked up at me and said "Hi mommy!". I woke up thinking "Oh no! I'm having a boy and he's going to be nothing but trouble!" I did indeed have a boy.
One day, when he was about 3 years old, I was on the phone. The curly haired little guy wrapped himself around my leg, looked up at me with a devilish smile and said "Hi mommy!". I nearly had a heart attack. Yes, he's been trouble ever since!
During my second pregnancy, I wanted a girl very badly. My husband wouldn't allow me to find out what the sex was through the ultrasound, and I was so curious to find out, I actually called a phone psychic (which was totally stupid, but when you are 7 months pregnant and you cant sleep, EVERYTHING sounds good on those 2am info-mercials). Anyway, I asked the psychic and she said the spirits wouldn't divulge the secret. At that point, I yelled at my husband and told him that even the spirits were on his side. But I knew deep down that it wasn't any spirit keeping the secret to themselves. It was because the lady was a total fraud.
A few nights later, I was laying in bed, wondering about it, and drifted off to sleep. I had a dream that I was at a carnival and I met a gypsy. I asked her what I was having, but she wouldn't tell me, but she smiled and begun hanging pink ribbons everywhere. Soon I noticed that all the trees were hung with pink ribbons, and the baby bassinet was hung with pink ribbons. From that moment on, I knew I was having a girl.
A few years after that, I began having dreams about another boy. My daughter was nearly two years old, and my son was nearly three. I dreamt I was standing in a card shop looking at birthday cards, and my son, who was standing at my side, asked me if he had a brother. I told him "No, the little boy belongs with his father". I woke up from the dream and couldn't shake the feeling that I had another boy. I was so confused by it, that I even wondered where this third child was. All I knew at the time was that I didn't want another child of my own. I was up to my ears in toddlers, and figured another would just cause me to go insane.
A few months later, I became convinced that I needed to do a surrogacy. Dont ask me why. My husband even had his doubts about this crazy new idea of mine. I found a couple that was local, and we went about preparing for a gestational surrogacy (the kid was in no way mine. I just carried it for nine months). It really was a miracle that the surrogacy went through on the very first try. I had no doubts that it wouldn't, but the parents knew all the statistics better than I, and since they were both over 40, it made it that much more likely that they thought it would never work at all. During the amnio, I noticed how worried they were and I told them that the baby was going to be fine, and that it would be a boy. I never told them why I knew this, but I had a feeling that the baby had already announced himself to me and I kinda got the hint that everything would be fine. Sure enough, we got the results of the amnio back and it showed that HE was fine.
After his birth, I was never plagued by the feeling of having another boy around me.
Later, we moved into a new apartment. The second night I slept there, I had a dream that I looked at the walls and they were covered in little patches of black dots. Upon further examination, I found that the walls were covered in ants! I hate bugs. Really. There is nothing I hate more than crawly little things that are small enough to fit into any open orifice on one's body. Yuck. I woke up and felt disgusted, but glad it was only a dream. A week later, I was working in the bedroom when my son came to get me. "BUGS!" he squealed. "Come on mom, come and see!" My daughter grabbed my other hand and they dragged me into the living room. There, on the wall, was a swirling pattern of ANTS! They came out of nowhere! I looked at where they were coming from and there was no hole. They weren't coming out of the floor, or out of a window. They came from the middle of the wall, and they came right out of nowhere. They squeezed right through the wall itself. I was so stunned and repulsed by them, that I called my husband and made him come right home (only after getting a few cans of bug spray on the way home).
Since then, the only dream I seem to be plagued with is one about another little girl. Only, this one is mine. I think there is an old soul out there, knocking on my door and waiting to be born. Well, it'll be a while. I'm just waiting for my other two to get old enough to help change the diapers! :)
Boy, do I have alot of odd stories to tell, but I figured the dreams were bad enough, so I'd start off with those.