Can it have anything to do with the bird that seems to always wake up around 4 am and trill constantly, like a crying baby?
I was so adept at caring for this new life, in my dream. I cuddled, cleaned, fed, swaddled, burped, and knew just the right things to do for the tiny creature, a complete human being so new to this world.
I was really good at it, I remembered the feeling when I woke up. It's been many (ahem) years since I had my own newborns.
Once awake and remembering the feelings from the dream...I started thinking "perhaps I could get a job or volunteer to help with newborn babies as a relief for their parents."
There are lots of sleepy new parents out there who wouldn't mind giving up that 2 am feeding to someone else...though of course I'm happy to hand the newbie over to the nursing mom after the diaper has been changed.
But wait, there's a reason I don't care for little babes, or even big ones. The menacing hacking sound of my cough from asthma and bronchiectasis. I forget it 'cause I carry it around in my back pocket, always coming out at inconvenient moments, and it only surprises new people when it comes out with its suddenness and loud bark.
Its chronic bronchiectasis. See Wikipedia HERE. It doesn't mean I have anything catching, and the people who know me have gotten used to it by now. But when I walked through a crowd last weekend and coughed (while covering my mouth of course) I was looked at askance by a man who had had his back to me, who turned and looked "was I going to give him some germ or another? Why wasn't I in a hospital at least?" That look.
So I can dream, anyway. And smile at the tenderness of newborns. Let's see, if ever my grandchildren who are adults partner up with someone, there might be a baby born into my family again...maybe.
I'm adding my dream to Sepia Saturday this week.
