Last night I had a dream that I was about to have a C-section. My Beloved and I were standing side-by-side, carefully laying out the new baby's coming home outfit on my hospital bed. As I straightened out the little sleeper and matching booties My Beloved had just handed to me, I made the assertion that this one indeed WOULD be coming home, even though I'm pretty sure I didn't believe it.
We were somber but pretending not to be, because that's not the right pre-delivery mood at all. Unless, of course, you've gone home to an empty nursery. My Mom sat in the corner of the room looking terrified while I tried to fake everyone out with my false optimism.
The dream slipped away into a different one before I found out what happened.
I would consider entertaining the notion that it might be a prophetic dream were it not for the fact that last night I also dreamed that I was rooting on my best friend Jennifer Aniston in a cooked chicken throwing contest.