In My Dreams
Two nights ago I dreamed I was sleeping.
Yes, you read that correctly: I was sleeping — in my dream. And not just once. I dreamed I was sleeping while in “the big bed” with Thor and Platypup, and Owlet woke up, pulling me out of the dream in the process, so I went to her bed, fell asleep there, and dreamed I was asleep again.
I think I may need more sleep.
On a possibly related note, I believe Platypup is planning to pop two bottom front teeth sometime soonish.
I remember, back in high school, sleep was for wimps. Nighttime sleep, that is. Sleeping till noon was cool, of course. But I digress. Sleep was for wimps because no one ever went home before curfew. Curfews were like speed limits. Created as a cutoff, they are immediately transformed, first as a target, eventually as a general guideline. Every now and then some sensible soul would go home early because they were tired, and the rest of us kids would look at them askance. Tired was… beside the point. The point was to be together.
In college, inevitably someone would call me as I was crawling into bed, pajama-clad with teeth brushed, and invite me to watch a terrible movie. Like, the Jason Voorhees kind of terrible movie. Somehow, I always went. So did Thor. We had diabolically persuasive friends. And pajamas worked as well for midnight movies and 8am classes as they did for sleeping anyway.
Now I am old. The reason I know this to be true is that I go to bed at a sensible hour, which is about the time I get too tired to go on living. Thor, who is also old, but in denial about it, will occasionally try to get me to stay up later. Say, till the daringly late hour of 11pm. But our babies sleep best in the hours before midnight, and so to bed I almost inevitably go.
I miss breaking curfew. I miss Jason Voorhees.
But my baby girl just said, “Yes, I am” when I told her she was my favoritest girl in all the world. And my baby boy just awakened for the third time in as many hours (teething!) and went swiftly, angelically back to sleep with only a token sip of milk to sweeten his lips.
And I wouldn’t trade them for anything. Why should I? Apparently I can sleep double-time.