To Sleep, Perchance To Dream

I just had the most wonderful and disheartening dream. I gave birth to a baby girl. My dad took me to this hospital where we waited in the waiting room because I knew it was close, but not quite time yet. I saw myself full and very pregnant. Sophia Loren was also there waiting for someone who was in a room. I actually made friends with her, and she taught me some Italian! I remember telling my dad that Obama had an office there, and they just remodeled it to also accomodate his family, such as adding a dining room and den so Malia and Sasha can watch tv and play games. Interestingly, it was just off the women's restroom. I never saw a prettier dining room. I remember that Gramma and her sister, Frances, were there. They were outside though, standing on the balcony in the rain. I went out to see them and I could see Gramma was crying. I went over to her to try to find out why, but the dream moved on. Freud might think that it symoblizes that they probably won't be here if I do have a baby. After that heart-dropping thought, it's finally time. A bunch of us gather in the room, including Loren, for me to give birth. I wasn't even having contractions. Dreams are great. The nurse took did an ultrasound, and showed me my baby. I found out it's a girl. Then after not much trying, she lays the baby on the bed. I cradled her head in my hand. I remember giving the name "Lora." I think there was more to that, but again, the dream moved on before that "scene" was over. I looked down at her in awe, filled with so much joy that I'm going to cry. But the tears don't come. I realize that it's all a dream. I'm in this limbo where I realize it's a dream, but I don't want to let go. I can still feel the weight and warmth of her head in my hand. I finally wake up from my dream feeling empty, very empty. I fight the urge to curl up on the recliner and watch "comfort" tv (like Golden Girls) to take my mind off of it and convince myself to go for a walk on this sunny morning. Hopefully it will fill the emptiness that fills me up.