One morning this week as *A* and I were stumbling about our morning routines of getting ready for work, she said to me, “I had the most interesting dream last night.” This is not unusual – *A* always seems to remember her dreams and talks about them the next morning. (Whereas I might remember bits and pieces of my dreams, but can go whole weeks without remembering having dreamed anything).
This particular morning, she told me that what she remembered about the dream was a little fuzzy ’round the edges, but there was a vivid image of me holding our new baby and it was the first time we three had ever been together. There were a few more very clear details that I don’t want to reveal here, lest, like telling what you wished for when you blow out the birthday candles, we jinx ourselves.
I used to think that it’s silly to put any emotional stock in a dream like that. In the past few months, though, I’ve read accounts on several different adoption blogs that I follow that have begun to change my mind. And let me tell you, when you’re following someone online that’s going through what you’re going through, even though you’ve never met them, you begin to feel somewhat like extended family – or at least I do. I’ve found myself genuinely caring about what they’re going through and, here lately in several cases, been happy for them as they have celebrated bringing home their new little one. One family in particular wrote, after they brought home their child, about about having had a dream similar to *A*’s dream. When that scene from the dream actually happened to them, play-by-play, it was so surreal. And startlingly accurate. As if their dream had been a window into their future life. The dream became something to cling to, in the hopes that it would someday be reality. And it was.
You might remember hearing about Aron Ralston a few years back (I vaguely remembered it when I saw his story in movie form in 127 Hours). He was hiking/bouldering in Blue John Canyon in Utah by himself and fell to the bottom of a narrow slot canyon, his right arm pinned beneath an immovable 800- pound rock. Ralston was stuck for 127 hours (hence the title) and only became “un-stuck” by, well, read more about that here. In any case, during those five days, he was in intense pain and ran out of his scant food and water supply, so was in and out of consciousness, but he recalled a vividly clear dream about playing, on some future day, with his as-yet-to-be born son. It was that moment of clarity that pulled him through – helped him know that he was going to get out of there and have a future.
I don’t want to be overly dramatic – we’re not trapped beneath a boulder or anything, after all – but sometimes the weight of the wait feels not unlike an 800 pound boulder pinning us down. Like everyone else who is here now, or has been before, we have this “if we could just know it will happen some day…” thought running through our minds – ALL of the time.
Of course there’s all sorts of theories about dreams and all sorts of ways of analyzing them. Maybe it’s nonsense to turn a dream like the one *A* had into something that we pin our hopes to – maybe it’s better to say that it seems like a very real image that symbolizes our hopes. In any case, in this silence we’re dealing with, it offers us something. A little bit of something to drown out the fears we’ve written about – which continue to stick around. It’s something, something to let us know that the wait won’t be forever, that this oddly detailed dream will be reality one day – that, regardless of whether the details of it are accurate, WE will be parents.
Have you seen our iHeartAdoption page lately? We added some photos from some recent adventures – check it out! Share it with friends!