I think this dream was lifted straight from an episode of Desperate Housewives….

Someone tried to steal our babies.   Yes, that’s right: plural.   Which is about all the displacement this dream offered.  For some reason, we had adopted newborn twins.   Everything else (that I remember) was true to life. 

We were hanging out in our apartment, taking care of the 3-week-old twins, when suddenly the birth mother showed up with her entire family (father, grandparents and siblings).  They asked to meet the twins.  Then they demanded that we return them.  There was some kind of fight, during which I escaped out the back door and ran through the streets of Stamford, with children in tow.

We ran to the mall [where I was yesterday]. 

Then one of the newborns started talking.  He heard a man nearby say the word “disappeared.”  So he repeated the word and used it in a sentence: “The english muffins seemed to have disappeared.”  I felt so proud I think I started crying.  “My son just said his first word!!”  I knew he didn’t understand what he had said, and that he was just repeating something he heard somewhere else, but it didn’t matter. 

I couldn’t wait to find Greta and share the news that our child had spoken!  If only the family and the police would stop chasing me through parking garages and back alleys.

When I woke up to Jack’s little baby noises, I was overwhelmed with relief.  I looked over at him in the bassinet as he attempted to wiggle out of the “Daddy Special” burrito wrap that I had placed him in.  I thought: He’s my son, no one can take him from me, and when he does start talking, Greta will be sitting next to me and we can share the moment together.

Then Jack worked out a poop and I changed his diaper. 

No rest for the dreamer!

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