Recurrent dreams

On a wharf somewhere there are ships that come and go laden with cargo. They are freshly painted in stark white with silver or red details. The sky is high and blue and the sun shines indulgently on the green water, causing sparks of light to pop in the waves. The machines loading cargo whir and creak piling royal blue metal crates atop each other. I watch all this for moments. Then a ship steams off into the electric water and I long to go wherever it is going.  I imagine far away ports with exotic people and beautiful skylines. 

In the deep pit of my stomach an aching starts. This is when my heart begins to race. I am suddenly with others, 3 girls, whom I know somehow in dream world but not in life. I have a secret that eats at me that I want to tell but they chatter so I wait and the darkness in my stomach spreads out to my fingertips. They stop for a second and I interject.  

"I've killed a baby."  It is said matter-of-factly though my soul screams the lie of apathy out of my eyes. 

They look at me without awe or shock or derision.  

"I've killed it," I say. 

"Well good," they say, "it was evil and hurting you. Why would you keep it?"  They were just as matter-of-fact. They didn't care I killed a baby. No one cared. They resumed their chatter, discussing changing their names and moving away. I suggested, with a strangled longing voice, changing my own to Clarissa. They told me I couldn't change mine. They weren't catty about it, but certain, as though it was common knowledge.  I couldn't run away, I couldn't change my name and no one cared if I killed a baby. The world was turning round, the cargo still shipped out, and I was still me, here, with blood on my hands, and no one cared. I woke up crying. 

Days later I slept again. This time there was a visitor, a doctor, or nurse perhaps, someone bringing news of my health. I saw them coming and hurried inside. Up steps with endless black drop-offs on either side, I raced. They were heading for apartment three. I could see them through the darkness like they were in a ghastly spotlight. People came and went somehow concerning me, but unconcerned for me. I raced for apartment five, knowing somehow, or maybe hoping, that they wouldn't find me there; they expected me at apartment 3.  My heart raced with each frantic, hurried step up the stairs. Just as I closed the door to apartment five my eyes made contact with the doctor's as he (or maybe she) stepped up to the green trimmed door of number 3. Did they recognize me?!  And I stepped back with heart racing into the darkness of number 5. 

My eyes open on my bedroom, but the room around me is foreign, and unfamiliar. The only thing that holds me at peace is Derek, as he wraps his arms around me and pulls me to him. If not for him I'd not be able to breathe.

In the last 2 weeks I've had the dreams twice each. They must mean something. Though they aren't exactly nightmares they disturb me.