Insurance

I often remember Saturday morning dreams.  This morning, as I went in and out of sleep (it is a luxury to be able to sleep in a bit) I had this dream.  I*m sure it has something to do with my work at DuPage Community Clinic and my own waiting to give birth to a new profession (and of course figuring out how and through what door to show my insurance card).  Right now I am thinking about do-overs, a concept which came more naturally when I was a kid.  Ah, Saturday mornings.  Priceless.

Last night I dreamed I was in labor.

As I waited to deliver,

I lay on a gurney in the hospital lobby.

People came and went.

When my husband finally got there

We agreed I was in the lobby

Because

 I had forgotten to show

My insurance card

And

I had come in the wrong door.

We agreed we would name the baby

Thomas:

His mother*s maiden name,

The first name

Of my great-grandfather.

He wrote Minnesota bird books.

Then

We decided to go out,

Come in again by the right door

As if we were arriving

For the first time.

We decided we would

Show our insurance card

At the door.