Friday, September 12, 2014

Dream: Life, naming



Last night's dream: There was a baby, a new niece or something, and she was so small she fit in the palm of my hand. I showed her to a man who was visiting. The baby cooed and snuggled in my hand; she was playful and happy.

"But I asked to see life," the man said, "There is no life in that bag of protein and enzymes."

I looked at the baby. I started seeing its skin only as thin biological membrane holding a soupy substance in. It moved in my hand like that lizard I saw hatch prematurely when its egg accidentally dropped on the floor.

I showed it to its mother. "Look at your baby," I said.

The mother smiled, but didn't look because she was busy. "Yes, she's very tiny, but she's healthy."

I stared at the thing in my hand, recalling her name, calling her name, until its eyes became distinct again, until the smile in them was back.