“How can I express the darkness?” ~ Virginia Woolf, from a diary entry dated 30 June 1927

Just noticed that this never published. Don’t know why . . .

(c) Walker Art Gallery; Supplied by The Public Catalogue Foundation
“The Falling Star” (1909, oil on canvas)
by James Hamilton Hay

My dream last night: I went to my doctor to tell her I was pregnant. She called two of my other doctors so they could discuss the ramifications of someone my age being pregnant. One of the doctors was someone I saw decades ago in real life. I had the baby right after telling them I was pregnant, and I was worried because I hadn’t stopped taking my medications. When I had the baby, she was obviously not going to live, too many things were wrong. The nurses said they would take care of her, put her on long-term morphine. I asked Alexis if she understood what that meant because now the baby was hers, and she seemed completely unconcerned that the nurses were going to put her baby on morphine. I explained to her that it meant that she was going to be kept comfortable until she died. One of the nurses said that it had gotten much better, that the baby might live to be 12. I was horrified that the baby would live for so long on life support. I tried to tell Alexis that it was not right. Then I showed Corey how to change the baby’s diaper, only there were no diapers, only these colorful cloth squares. The baby looked at me and smiled. I knew she was going to die, but no one else seemed to realize this. The doctors told me it was unlikely I would get pregnant again.