Have, Little One, a Dream of Us

Life; great word. I've visited my friends' baby at the hospital. I went two weeks ago too. He's been born on the 28th week and his weight was below one kilo, and yet, he is a complet person, a little big piece of throbbing life. Five fingers in each hand. Two eyes, two ears; the correct amount of limbs in his minute body. And yet, he needs help to breath; too small lungs.

He was born two weeks ago, but early, too early. So far, so good, though. No big problem. His brain works, his heart is a precission clock, ticking at an amazing rate, 170 beats per minute. His liver, fine. And yet, he forgets to breath from time to time, like if he was still tired of having been born so unanticipatedly and was skipping his too-early responsability to do it by his own. Don't forget breathing, my little baby!

Alive, he is hopefully alive. It seems trivial, since it is a natural proces: a baby is born, and it lives. But at that stage, where he should still be in his mother's womb, it appears to my eyes like a miracle. He is still covered with prenatal hair, but already makes some noises and move his hands by his own while sleeping on his mother's breast, like dreaming. What a baby is dreaming of?

We say to children going to sleep, "have a good night and dream of the angels", but this little angel, what is he dreaming of? He's never seen the sea nor the sky; the rain nor the sun; not yet. But by sticking to life, he's a big dream coming true, day after day. No need to be dreaming, since we are all dreaming of him.