It is daytime and my husband is there. We are across the bed from each other, standing on either side as I lay our baby down for a nap. The baby is chubby, ball-skulled like my father and I. His head is turned to my right and as I settle him onto the mattress, I also lean down to plant a kiss on his cheek. It gives under my lips like warm, rising dough. My fingers sweep gently across his cornsilk wisps of hair and I smile. My husband floats a pale yellow receiving blanket up and over the baby, letting it drift down and cover him completely. I tease my husband for laying the cloth on the baby's face and then fold it gently so we can see him again. Tucking the blanket all around him, I am content.
The scene changes and the baby is newborn, in my arms. I am giving him my breast for the first time. He doesn't seem to grab on right away, so I try to entice him with the nipple. I feel the goodness of his weight on my lap and just as he's about to suckle for the first time...
I am awake.
I have never met this Dream Baby before, and I don't know how I know it's a boy. There is no clear interpretation unfolding before me as I hold onto this dream. Is it the baby who won't be born in July, or is it the baby who wants to come into this world someday? Will I meet this infant again in my dreams, or was he Casper the Friendly Ghost, floating through my subconscious to help my heart move forward?
What I do know is this. The best thing about the dream was how I felt in both scenarios: calm--almost serene--and so confident. Like being a mother was the most right, the most ME thing ever. Perhaps that's the message of the dream?
As Jung said, "Who look outside, dreams. Who looks inside, awakens."
Was this a dream, or an awakening?
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