Dreamy Benedict Cumberbatch

I dreamed of BC a few nights ago. My dream was likely motivated by watching BC on Top Gear, just before I went to bed. I never watch Top Gear. But I'd watch paint dry if BC was somewhere in it. The dream went something like this: 
I was at work. The last job I had before motherhood. My in-dream manager was an old frenemy from school. Someone I always felt to be very attractive and popular. And someone who was perpetually juxtaposed by my awkwardness and inability to fit in.
BC was a celebrity visitor to my place of work. He just seemed to be there. No interviews, no photographs, no filming. Just BC hanging out. I recall that he took various important phone calls. He chatted to people. He smiled a lot. He strode around looking heart-squishingly dashing. Every time, I looked at him, which was erm often, I internally fainted a bit. I felt, in-dream, my manager to be more appealing to BC than I. She fitted in. I did not. She was important. He is important. I'm just ordinary. I recall that BC dashed off to take another important call. Our paths crossed. He smiled, he metaphorically grabbed my heart and danced on it for a time then asked 'are you ok'? I said 'yes, you're here aren't you'. A statement, not a question. He smiled. I melted. Then I woke up. Don't you just hate it when that happens. . The dream probably indicates that I need to work on my self-esteem. It also suggests that I have a rather two-dimensional idea of importance. Motherhood IS massively important. I know this. But perhaps my recent interactions with the wider world has caused me to doubt not only my parenting skills but the relevance of motherhood within itself. There is emotional work to be done upon self me thinks...