Dream Roll: Baby Girl Birth Announcement

Slept in the comfy guest room at Sis and Don's, not too far from a marina here in Connecticut. Tossed and turned just a little bit. Had the most colorful dream.

I was giving birth to a baby girl--at my current age, in a spacious women's magazine editor's office in NYC.

The editor was Ellen Levine, whom I worked for in real life for many years--in my first job at Woman's Day for 4+ years and in my dream job as Lifestyle Writer at Good Housekeeping. John Mack Carter, another celebrity editor, was at the helm for my first 5? years at GH and then Ellen for the next 5.

I always admired her beautiful style--the slim skirts, tailored pants, pretty scarves--the swing and bounce of her silver-fox hair, her flattering lipstick, the fact that she balanced motherhood, marriage and career, the fresh flowers in her WD office, her perch at the top of a field I loved. And I respected her insights, visions and editing--when the Food Department rolled out their dozens of dreamy Christmas cookies and plates of chicken for photography decisions, when the Fashion Editor brought out the racks of clothing she planned to feature, and at editorial meetings, when we would paint a picture of the magazine reader and what she wanted to see. I even liked my editor's penmanship: Old-fashioned, flowy script on the typed copy routed to her for final approval.

Anyway. I was having a baby girl, and so was Ellen, at her current age. We were on familiar terms, as you would be with another mother delivering a baby the same time you were. Our husbands weren't there, nor were doctors or midwives, and the dream did not include scenes of actual, true-grit childbirth. In fact, I didn't see either of us pregnant, and neither of us looked too old to be having a baby.

But I saw the babies! And Ellen's, true to form, was beautiful. Her name was Ava and she had delicate features and abundant, pretty hair. When Ellen was taking her home [in a private car with driver], she had done the baby's hair in an adorable fashion, with several small bunches tied up with bows of different colors: blue, purple, hot pink.

My baby girl, on the other hand, shall remain nameless. She was cute and healthy but I can't remember a name. Yet she was speaking in full, sophisticated sentences--which didn't seem freakish in the dream, only surprising--and it was clear she had watched closely and absorbed my feelings during pregnancy. The little know-it-all said something about my Figgy and how she had observed her behavior. She mentioned weed [such a weird dream, right?].

By the end of the dream--and many of my dreams go this way--we were sorting through a lot of stuff. Ellen was getting rid of many things, and I was taking some, such as a cute knit baby sweater. She was tossing out gifts she had received that were just plain ugly. Then lots of people were in the space with us, people from NYC, who were watching our two babies for us. We were trusting people we didn't know very well to keep an eye on our newborn baby girls, but I took peeks at both of them as we sifted through things. Whatever we didn't want, and there was a lot, the other New Yorkers were welcome to take.

I can't remember much more, except two of the men walking out--one stylish fellow wearing a blue argyle sweater vest that I have in a bag tagged for the Red Cross at home, for real, and the other in one of my good H.'s sweaters, a tan crewneck with a patterned brown design. H. still has it at home, and I think Figgy wore it recently?

Anyway....such is the stuff of dreams. Ellen and I planned to get our baby girls together to play some time in the future!