Dream a Little Dream

I've been having bizarre dreams over the past few weeks, and it doesn't take a psychology major to figure them out.

In one, I was in Richmond, and my sister-in-law said to me, "you're not going to like this, but it's for your own good. Erica is bringing the baby over so you can see her."

"But I'm not ready yet. I don't want to."

"Too bad. They're here."

And when they got there, there was this beautiful little baby -- my great-niece -- and my niece gloating (it was like out of a bad sitcom) about how easy it was to get pregnant, how she didn't understand why I was so bad at it, what was I doing wrong, was my doctor competent. Awful.

The next one I had was about my sister and brother-in-law in San Diego. I was there, visiting them, and suddenly they had a baby. A four- or five-month old that was in foster care but was being given up for adoption. From Onondaga County (that's Syracuse). I kept saying, "why wouldn't anyone let me have him? I'm so close to Onondaga County, I can take that baby."

And then my sister, who is 50 and has never wanted to have her own children, says to me, "We're going to keep this baby. He's ours now. You get to be the aunt."

"But I'm always the aunt." And then everyone ignored me.

To make matters worse, the baby's name is Lincoln. Lincoln, regardless of what I go with for a first name, will be my son's middle name, as it was my grandmother's maiden name (the grandmother I was named after).

No one could understand why I was upset, why it seemed so unfair.