Last night I dreamed. Thousands of them. Sharp and distinct and vivid with obvious lessons.
Last night's first dream was of children.
It began with an encounter with Lynn's oldest son whom I've never met, yet who is showing signs of the confusion of growing up smarter than his soon-to-be stockbroker peers. I dreamed that I spoke with him, told him stories and straightlines and made him promise one thing -- to always remember, that no matter how brilliant it feels to rise in power, to use his brains purely and properly and to watch the world change around his fingers -- none of it would ever feel as good as a proper hug. Not the cackle of the successful evil genius, not the ringing of the next tens column in his bank account.
I made him promise to remember that, and never to read an Ayn Rand novel until he understood it fully.
Then I dreamed of Vincent, and the first time he laughed as I held him upside down, I dreamed of Fordlet and the first time he cracked a grin like a door swinging a gap-toothed hole into the sun.
I dreamed of Sarah's littlest, I dreamed of that boy at Ian's party, the shy one that spent the evening bobbing up and down on my quadricep.
Last night I dreamed of Dave when he lies against my breast, the fifteen seconds a week when he lets utterly go and a brilliant little boy shines through his stubble, soft and vulnerable and in love with the world.
Last night I dreamed of Benoit and the first time he cried in front of me, and how he sighed when I told him he had the right to cry.
Last night I dreamed of the night we'd gone to see Chocolat with Geeks and Tia and Georgia (Tia's little sister) for Georgia's birthday.
I dreamed of that one perfect moment, during the saddest point in the movie, where Geeks held one hand, and Georgia, then Tia, reached for the other. Because they needed to hold someone. Because that someone was me. I dreamed of the way that moment seemed to isolate our four seats from the rest of the theatre, into a glowing golden bubble of warmth.
Last night I dreamed a thousand iterations of the same theme, childish faces who've let me touch them, staring up at me. Childish faces ranging from the toothless to the already dentured, ranging from the easily happy, to the permanently scarred.
I dreamed of the smiles that some days I permit myself to believe I participated in making, and I woke from that dream feeling...
...better about myself than I have in a while.