Bad Dreams
This morning I came awake in the pre-dawn hours with the very grateful awareness that “It was only a dream.” I really hate dreams that require me to get out of bed and check on the well being of the children. I hate the way they stick in my head all the next day haunting me as if they had actually happened. Feelings linger regardless of the unreality of their source.
I intended this morning to take extra time to just love my children. I wanted to savor the fact that I have them and that they are all healthy. I wanted to enjoy their unique irreplaceable personalities. What a joy and a miracle it is that I have them. Instead we were all caught up in the pre-school hustle complete with Patches-damage to Kiki-beloved items and an infuriating broken zipper. I was steaming mad when we drove away from the house. I’d calmed down enough by the time we arrived at school that I apologized for yelling and wished Kiki and Link a good day. It wasn’t until I drove away from the school, leaving them behind, that I remembered how I wanted this morning to go. Then I cried.
I know that I’ll see them after school. After school I’ll get the chance to hug them and love them and enjoy being with them. But my dream looms in my brain with a shadowy persistent “What if”. So many chances of happiness are lost because I allow small things to interfere. Tragedy may never occur, but that doesn’t change the fact that this morning’s chance for happiness is gone.