dreams.

I love it when I remember my dreams.  Recently I was talking with someone who said they rarely remember their dreams and I actually felt bad for them.  My dreams often feel very real and I wake up feeling the same way I felt in my dream, which is why there have been times in my life that I refused to sleep because I didn't want to dream.  When my ex-husband left Optimus Prime (aka fetus Henry) and I, the thought of seeing him in my dreams was enough to make me sleep as little as possible.  I would stay up until 4 or 5 a.m. and then wake up at 7 a.m.  Then I mentioned it to my ob/gyn and he said I was growing a human being, I needed to sleep.  I did finally get some sleep and when my ex-husband showed up in my dreams it wasn't as traumatic as I thought it would be.  As the years have gone by, I rarely dream about my life before Henry.  Last night, however, I had a crazy ass dream about Henry and I in the basement of this haunted house but it was real, not some Halloween production.  We were looking for some guy, I don't remember who he was or why we were looking for him, but we knew we had to find him because I was going to be marrying my ex-husband again.  We finally found him and he told me that my ex-husband had taken off and the wedding was called off.  Then I realized it was my ex's weekend with Henry and poof, Henry was gone and all these people were around me feeling sorry for me about the breakup and I was all, "People!  Really?  Been there, done that.  This is no big thing."  When I woke up, however, I felt inklings of the way I felt when he left us for real.  It felt so gross.  Then I heard a noise and I opened my eyes and saw Henry sleeping soundly, snoring loudly, next to me and I realized that Henry is my dream come true.  He is funny and kind and loving and curious and demanding and active and even though raising him mostly by myself isn't what I had dreamed about when we were planning to bring him into this world, I wouldn't have it any other way.