Tuesday, October 7, 2008

Windows of the Soul

I awoke at 5 this morning to a little face peering at me from the side of my bed. It was pitch black, but I could tell it was Owen. 

He scrambled up into bed with me (there's lots of room with my husband out of town), put is head on my chest and said, "I just love you," which is sweet, but is also what he usually says when he doesn't really have any reason for being out of bed. 

Turns out this time he did have a reason. He said he'd had a bad dream. I asked if he wanted to tell me about it. He didn't. Instead he curled up next to me and tried to go back to sleep. But a minute later, he changed his mind. 

"I guess I will tell you," he began. He proceeded to tell me that he dreamt he was on my mom's roof and he couldn't get down. He said I was down on the ground and he asked me how to get down, but he kept going the wrong way. 

He was exceptionally articulate (especially for the middle of the night) and got upset just telling me about it. 

I'd like to think that it isn't a metaphor...that it means nothing. But I immediately felt like he was baring a piece of his soul. That he feels afraid. That he feels separated. That he tries to do what we tell him, but he somehow gets it wrong. That he's telling me -- however subconsciously -- that he needs a ladder. 

Am I reading too much into it? Maybe, but that brain of his works in mysterious ways. If he is trying to tell me something, the least I can do is listen. 

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