I was late to work today. I had an amazing dream, and I woke up exhausted and depressed. I dreamt (not for the first time) that my mother was suddenly feeling better, and she was slowly talking and walking again, and that she came home.
And that she washed my baby niece.
And that she played with my 3.5 year old nephew.
And that she gave me her recipe for her amazing artichoke salad.
And that she was at my wedding (down the road).
And that she got to help me figure out how to be a mom (down the road).
And that she got to babysit my kids so I could get some sleep.
And that she got to have a full head of gray hair.
And that she and my dad got to get old together.
And that she and I got that website we talked about off the ground.
And that she told me how to get the pink out of my white shirt when I accidentally left a red sock in my whites.
And that she told me she was proud of me.
And that she yelled at me for not applying cream every morning to my face.
And she wasn’t crying.
And she wasn’t poofy from steroids.
And she wasn’t depressed.
And I wasn’t either.
And she was smiling and laughing like my mom always did.
And then I woke up and realized that not sleeping is better.
Or at the very least, that nightmare about having my teeth fall out. That’s definitely a better dream to have. At least it doesn’t stay with you all day.
And doesn’t make you contemplate buying stock in Kleenex.