August 31, 2007
I had a dream where I am told that my best friend Dinah has given birth to a son and that I am the father.I feel like I have amnesia because I can’t ever remember having sexual relations with Dinah but they tell me that it is true.He is my son and Dinah has named him Steven. What I do remember is how much I love and care for Dinah.I feel that even though I can’t remember when it happened, it is totally possible.I am so happy.To have a son is something I have always dreamed of having, especially a child of my own flesh and blood.I am handed the boy wrapped tightly in a blanket.His little face looks up to me and he is just so beautiful to behold.I kiss his little lips so tenderly and repeatedly.I finally have a son of my own.I want to take him home with me.I begin to think of the life we will have together and the many things I will teach my son.As I get ready to leave my memory returns and I recall that Dinah is married and has a husband and a family of her own.This is a dream.I pause in my step and turn around. With a heavy heart, I return the child but before I hand him over I think I could possibly make a different choice at this moment and change the course of events and change the past.I’m aware of the power I possess within the dream to change history but I simply cannot take a son at the expense of my friendship with Dinah.For but a brief moment, I had a son.
As I journaled this dream just now I found it odd that my dream would choose the name Steven as the birth name of my son. I don’t have anyone in my family or circle of friends named Steven. Is there any significance in the name Steven? As I’m in the habit of doing, I looked up the name in my trusted Wikipedia where I found the following:
Stephen or Steven (generally pronounced IPA [ˈstivn̩]) is an English masculine first name, derived through the Latin form Stephanus from the Greek Στέφανος (Stephanos), which means “crown” or “wreath.”
I’ve been chatting with my friend David Kahn who’s recently been dreaming babies. He like me recently authored a book. This creation we’ve each placed forth in the pages of a book is not unlike giving birth to a child. Our books now have a life all unto there own. What an honor it is to have the dream confirm the crown upon my book, my child. These things amaze me when the riddles are solved and you the dreamer had no conscious input to formulate the outcome. There was no mistake made in the name bestowed on my child by the dream. It was not random. It has purpose. It has meaning. It is the raw material upon which life itself is lived.