I don’t dream.
Ok, that is not exactly true. I do, but I haven’t always. Well, I haven’t always remembered them or been aware that I had them; apparently everyone dreams, whatever. When I was a little girl and my parents were divorcing I had a reoccurring nightmare—that I was a sugar cookie and a big oatmeal raisin cookie was going to envelop and overtake me—definitely a story much better told in person because uuuuummmmm … anyway, nightmares seem a totally different category than dreams.
Almost 4 years ago I gave my sweetie the ultimate gift: I quit smoking. I took Chantix (the miracle drug) and praise be, have stayed smoke free. BUT, and its a big BUT, I somehow acquired and kept the side effect of the drug “strange or unusual dreaming.” If you haven’t been a dreamer and suddenly you are, it is a strange—often twisted—middle world to learn to navigate. I am still thrown into slumber loops, trying to discern meaning and their relationship to reality.
Enter this morning. Its been a tough week at my home, and a good night of sleep has been difficult to come by. But this morning I feel like I was given a morsel of what lies ahead. I also think my little baby girl Tigger-bean and my dad who has been lurking near from the other side of the veil may have given it to me. Well, that is what I am choosing to believe.
I woke up and rolled over to see that Sweetie was reading on Facebook as she lay there crying. I asked her what was the matter, and she told me to open Facebook and see for myself. So, I did. I scrolled and scrolled and all I saw were my friends, one after another, at parties and toasting with titles on their photos like “We did it!” and “finally going to the chapel!” I looked at her again and she whispered to me that DOMA had been overturned while we were sleeping. I wondered why our friends hadn’t called us, woken us to join their celebrating, but that fleeting feeling was erased as I reached over and grabbed her hand beneath our brown blanket and smiled, nestled in and fell right back to sleep.
Sitting in front of the computer this morning I scrolled and scrolled looking for the pictures. I finally asked sweetie if it had really happened because it was so real to me, and I couldn’t believe that DOMA being overturned would be outshined by the death of Margaret Thatcher. I retold her what she did this morning, she smiled and told me to write about it.
A girl can dream right?