Dreams: The Baby

I'm dreaming that I'm imagining having a baby.

I know the baby is imaginary, but I can see it, hold it, smell its comforting baby scent. Not it. Her. The baby is a girl, although I don't know her name. She is, however, my imaginary baby.

I'm cradling the baby in my arms or bouncing her on my hip and it feels good, even though I tell the baby she should not be here. I do not want a baby. My biological clock is on permanent snooze. My life will be completed on my own terms, without marriage or children, I say.

The baby just smiles.

I put the baby down on a waterbed. Something tells me that's irresponsible, but the baby is only imaginary so what difference does it make. The baby cries. I pick her back up, cradle her against my breast, and she snuggles there in blessed silence.

I have an imaginary conversation with the baby's imaginary father. I tell him he is only imaginary, and so is the baby. He just shrugs. For a moment, we make a lovely imaginary family.