Rachel & Benjamin

I dreamt.

Everyone hates me. My mother tells me not to harbor any illusions that it will ever work out. They wish I would die.

I'm seizing. I'm rushed to the ER. They're putting an IV in my arm. I'm losing consciousness, but I know something's wrong. Defibrillator pads are put on me, as well as the EKG leads. What's on the monitor? I asked the ER nurse. Still not quite faded out, she hesitates, thinking I'll pass out before requiring an answer. What's on the monitor? I ask her again. Some PVCs, she says. How many? I ask. Alot, she says. I'm dying. I know it.

My legs are being put into stirrups. My abdomen is being prepped for surgery. A C-section. A child is going to be delivered.

I woke up. And cried a few tears before I let steel cover my heart.

I feel like I'm being treated like the "clone" in the movie The Island. People think I'm less than human. They want me to die after giving birth. They think I'm growing a child FOR THEM to raise, just like the "good couple" in the movie who grew a clone to carry a child so the woman wouldn't mar her beauty. Then, once the child is born, they'll euthanize me. Just like the clone in the movie.

I want to vomit. Arrogance. Such pathetic arrogance.