Last night Oliver woke up yelling his head off at about 1:30. I stumbled down the stairs to his room, sending Woody skittering across the floor with those terribly noisy claws of his. What I found was a mostly-still-asleep two-year-old babbling like a lunatic, hair all sticky-upy.
Me: Shhh (rubbing his cheek) Shh.
Oliver: Guy! Man!
Me: Shhh. Go back to sleep.
Oliver: Choo-choo train man come!
Me: It's just a dream. Shh.
Oliver: zzzzzzz.
My son's first bad dream. This may be mean, but being able to soothe my kid during a nightmare gives me immense pleasure. I donned my capable-mom suit and kicked that Choo-choo Train Man back to the hell from which he rose.
None of my new found skills seemed to help in my own personal dreamland. As I drifted off I joined the Mister on the beach just as he was fishing my liver out of the surf at Ocean Beach. We knew it was mine because of the serial number, you see.
Me: Can we put it back in?
Mister: No. Look at it (he holds up a large, gray jellyfish-looking thing). It's been out too long.
Me: (realizing I'm going to die). Darn.
I've never really gotten the hang of dream analysis, but this much is clear: Oliver is cute and I am whacked thirty ways from Sunday.
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1 comment:
i just spit out my coffee and barely missed my keyboard: "the serial number, you see". i don't mean to sound evil, but your liver-as-jellyfish dream makes me laugh.
that's so interesting--i am serious now-hearing about little cabbage dreams. i will be wondering what that means in terms of consciousness development all day.
brief personal note: about four days after i got byron out of the pound, i saw him dreaming for the first time. you know how dogs do it? paws moving, suffocated barking? it filled with tenderness also because he had been in a pound for literally the entire span of his 10-year life and so i wondered, what is he dreaming about? running where? he'd never seen a squirrel and had been going to his first park barely a week. also, it took him a month to emit a real-life bark, and he's only done it once,
huh. i think the thing i like most about encaustic painting is the name. i feel about caustic about the whole idea of Creativity Retreats as a whole, but i suppose that's the italian in me, the part of me that doesn't even notice women wearing fur anymore. (but in Carmel??? isn't like 60 degrees??)
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