My husband isn't a dreamer. I don't mean that in some metaphysical sort of way, I mean when he goes to sleep at night, it's for keeps. None of that pointless meandering around Dreamland.
About a month before Rain was born, he told me he had a dream that I had given birth. In fact, he had delivered our baby. He didn't know if it was a boy or girl (he only saw dark hair), but the thing that struck him was the baby's eyes. They were dark, focused, and seemed to look through him.
When Rain was born, he saw those same eyes. Instead of being terrified (like I would've), he said he felt "comforted."
Meanwhile ...
Before Rain came, I was worried that I wouldn't have an instant love for her. As the first weeks of dealing with a fitful newborn wore on, my doubts compounded. I thought, "What if I don't love her? What if I never love her?" Those are the kind of thoughts that slide in and out of a guilty mind right before sleep. This, of course, made me dream all sorts of scenarios in which I failed as a mother. Then I had this one dream ...
I was walking along a beach with Rain. It was sunny, but the water was churning. The wind picked up, and clouds rolled in. Quickly the tide rose and alarms sounded. Everyone ran inland, but the water came too fast. It was at my ankles when I turned to run. Rain was in my arms. I saw a metal pole--tall as a tree--with a wide base. I climbed to the top as the water rushed onto the beach. The surge washed over everyone, and I clung to the poll. As the water pushed against me, Rain pulled farther away. I tried to tighten my grip, but she slid away from me in one strong gush. The waves pushed over me, and everything was quiet. Finally, the waves went back to the ocean. I limped down from the poll, crying and moaning for my baby. There was no one on the beach. It felt like the Apocalypse. Ahead was a tall building, where it looked like survivors might be. But I just stood there, wanting to die. I didn't want to be saved, I wanted to go out with the water like Rain.
Then, I heard a buzzing sound overhead. I looked up, and there she was. She was a naked cherub. She had 2 tiny wings, beating the air like a hummingbird's, and she was giggling. She had saved herself. When I grabbed her, the wings went away. You think I cared to question the wings? Rain was alive and we were together.
That dream answered how I felt about Rain. I want to be her snow globe. She can be a crazy, happy, all-over-the-place kid ... as long as I'm allowed to be the shatter-proof glass that protects her. And, yet, in the dream, she didn't need me to guard her ...
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