I had a dream last night that I was seven months pregnant and went into labor while my husband was out in California on business. Obviously, he wouldn't have traveled if he knew I was going to deliver early (yes, I am logical even in my dreams). Anyway, I had an emergency C-section and couldn't call my husband until it was all over.
Afterwards (still in my dream), I asked my kids, Olivia and Jared, what we should call their new baby brother and they came up with Luke. After we left the hospital I realized that Luke wouldn't work because they have a cousin Lucas and the names are too close. So I searched my brain for a name. I wanted to stick to an O or J name so that it would flow nicely with Olivia and Jared. But since J names are way too popular right now, I decided to go with an O name.
That's when it came to me in my dream. My dream baby is Owen. I called my husband and told him that Baby Owen was doing fine.
Then I woke up and realized that I had named my dream baby subconsciously after the Wilson Brothers, Luke and Owen. How weird is that? A bazillion names and I come up with the two Wilson Brother's names. Proves the power of the Wilson Bros, I guess.
Anyway, while I am not pregnant, nor do I anticipate ever being pregnant again, I did wake up feeling as if I had deserted poor Baby Owen in some alternate dream universe. And if this were a Stephen King novel my dream baby would now continue to haunt me with his crying, cooing, and laughing until I went back into my dreams to rescue him from the evil that lurks between the waking and sleeping worlds.
Hmm, sounds like the basis for a horror film.
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