So, my wife is now 22 weeks pregnant.
A few nights ago I dreamt we were allowed, by some new medical advance, toÂ have our baby taken out early so that we could have a little meet and greet, and then he’dÂ have to be put back in to be born normally a few weeks later. When weÂ got to hold him, he looked like a regular baby, with his eyes tightlyÂ closed and his face scrunched up.
Then, he started to relax, andÂ opened one eye, then he cautiousy opened the other and looked around. My wife wasÂ holding him so that he faced me, and we both got excited that he was alreadyÂ looking around, way ahead of schedule. He then locked eyes with me and saidÂ “Hi, Jonathan!”
“You know my name?!?” I exclaimed.
“Yes, you told it to meÂ earlier, you’re my dad,” he replied, as if it was obvious. He then
started to try to move around and crawl, but was too weak.
“Don’tÂ worry,” I said, “your brain has been getting good exercise with usÂ talking to you in your mom’s belly, but your muscles haven’t been able to,Â what with you all squeezed in there. Speaking of that, how do you likeÂ being stuck in there all curled up in a ball?”
The baby shruggedÂ stoicly, as if to say, “What can you do?”
“How do you feel about the fact that you gotta go back inÂ there in a little bit?” I then asked. He shot me a wide-eyed “Say what, now?” look. The dream ended.
Additional detail: the baby had red hair and a receding hairline with aÂ widow’s peak. He looked sort of like a miniature David Caruso. WhatÂ the hell does that mean?