Nightmare #122 – Baby Traps

(Male) Let me start by noting that I realize this nightmare is anatomically impossible for SEVERAL reasons — I paid attention in “Health” class enough to know that. I was visiting my mother who apparently lived in a different city. We were strolling through this nice, gentrified area that obviously used to be freight warehouses in a rail yard but that had been transformed into a series offices, coffee stands, lofts, places to eat over-priced lunches and small shops that sold small, expensive pieces of junk. I was very surprised when we came to one door that Mother indicated was her office, surprised because Mom retired something like 20 years ago. We entered and I found a dark and dirty room, cramped to begin with but that was made even more difficult to navigate by this huge, old-style dentist’s chair bolted right to the middle of the floor. It was in bad shape — the arm pads had been torn up by generations of fingernails clawing against the pain. Mom had me sit in the chair. She had an assistant in this tiny room as well, a burly young woman who stood quietly in the shadowy corner but seemed prepared to hold my legs down if it proved necessary.

…Mom asked me to open my mouth and she forced this bottle down my throat, open end down…

Mother explained that she needed to “harvest some babies” from me. She showed me a simple device that would do the work. It was a clear glass bottle, probably half a liter with a very wide mouth and this weird attachment that dangled from the mouth inside the bottle. The attachment looked a bit like a noose. Mom asked me to open my mouth and she forced this bottle down my throat, open end down. The way the trap worked, I was lead to believe, was that a developing fetus would eventually grow to be so large that it had to stick its head inside the bottle and once it did that, its head would be trapped inside the noose. The baby would be caught and Mom could then gently twist the bottle out of my throat and she’d have a baby. Yes, I realize how twisted this sounds. At least this was how Mom explained the procedure to me. I didn’t question why she kept putting another and another bottle down my throat, pushing them in hard, screwing them to force them down my esophagus. If the idea was that they were to catch a developing fetus, well, wouldn’t I only need one at a time? That is, even if guys DID develop fetuses at all! And why were they going down my throat? I woke up snoring so badly I was choking.

And since I bet you’d ask, no, my wife is not pregnant.

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