That baby was a monkey

I wanted to post this before, but I had too much other stuff to write to put it in the other blog. It's about a dream I had the night before this second miscarriage, and it is strikingly meaningful. It actually frightens me a bit.

The dream went like this:
I was sitting in this great big brown rocking chair that H and I have in the now-an-office-but-one-day-will-be-the-baby's-room. I had this precious little child in my arms, and I was nursing it and cuddling it and talking to it and playing with it, just loving every minute of my time with it. It went on for a while like that, and then H walked in to the room and started chuckling. "What are you doing?" he asked me. So I laughed, thinking "what a stupid question", and I said to him "umm, I'm nursing the baby and playing with it." And he looked at me very strangely and said "M, that's not a baby you're holding". So I laughed like he was crazy, but then when I looked down, it was true. I was holding this small green stuffed monkey, just like one that my friends had given me many years ago. I wasn't holding a baby at all, it seemed that I had just been pretending to do motherly things, and that the baby that was in my arms, that I was loving so tenderly, was not a baby at all.
That baby was a monkey, a stuffed-animal monkey.

Does that dream make me pathetic?