dreams, lately

i've always been the kind of person that remembers her dreams.  maybe not full out dreams, but nearly always snippets and flashes and brilliance of color and frozen images.

i've also always been the kind of person who tries to explain to her husband what she dreamed about when she wakes up.

the below, details changed daily, is a common occurrence in our bedroom:

"i dreamed about you! we were at a theme park type place and then everything turned to giant blow up rubber playhouses, like those things you can rent, and then i really had to get to the other side but we kept getting bounced and then something about your nose was wrong...i can't really explain but it was really weird."

poor topher.

but see lately, i've been having dreams and i wake up with feelings and small pieces of pictures. remnants that i can physically feel, that leave lasting impressions.

like mosquitoes.  i swear, i will shut my eyes and drift off, only to jerk awake again because i can SEE the mosquito hovering and landing on my shoulder or ankle or cheek.

not to mention that i sometimes wake up and i'm actually scratching my mosquito bites? how does my brain tell my arms to do that while i'm sleeping? HOW?

and boomer.  i can actually hear her little playful bark, feel her silky ears, and cuddle her little face in my arms in dreams.  sometimes, we're on the couch in our house in maryland, and we're both tense, waiting to hear topher's footfalls on the stairs, which will surely end our couch time fun.  or i'm getting home from work and she's making her excited growl barks and her toes are scratching on the wooden floor from overjoyment.  

and then i wake up, and i can't believe those ears, that nose, that little furry thing is far away.

and then there's this.  a soft, small head with light brown hair. a perfect little face, scrunched up, and then, in the next moment, sleeping in a stroller, sunlight streaming overhead, and then the same head in the nook of my arm, squished up against my chest, me breathing in the sweetness. i can feel the little blue blanket, emanating little body warmth in my arms.  i can feel the tuft of hair tickle my nose as i inhale the sweet baby scent.

and sometimes, terrifyingly, i wake with the most incredible yearning pain in my heart.  for that little face.  and i tell myself, really? we've got a plan here, and uterus, you need to go back to sleep, we've got some years until that happens.

but it's just so real.

your dreams, lately?

on children (and medusa)

no, not my own children (let's not talk about the sad sort of clanging coming from the clock in hall, with my absurd little ovaries popping out to say cuckoo. CUCKOO!)

(though that's happening, too.)

no, this is about the children that previous unto today, ignored my very existence.  children that live, in fact, ten feet from us.

yes, our host family children.  our nieces and nephews?! as they call us "meeng" and "boo" (aunt and uncle), so we'll go with that. let's get to the point.

they hate me.

clarification! up until today, five p.m. greenwich-cambodian time, they hated me.

we're not talking a "they prefer topher over me" kind of thing, either.  it was an actual dislike, as compared to a love.

truly, when i biked through the gate, they used to run inside the house. screaming, terrified, tears streaming down their face from the shocking view of the medusa. that kind of run.

but when he came, a wheel clicking through that gate? they came out, giggling, and high-fiving and laughing and jumping up on his bike and pouring their adorable kid magic all over HIM (him being the man i call husband.)

oh, ho, but now. NOW!

now, they lurrrvvveee meeng.  jumping on my knees, reaching for my arms, snuggling in my neck kind of lurve.  "i like meeng!" was a common turn of phrase round these parts two hours ago.

and i didn't even have to bribe then with chocolate from phnom penh.

(let's not pay attention to the fact that topher had to pronounce my awesomeness many times, and lead them to me.  it's just not important, in the long run.)

dear lord, will our real children hate me for the first five months as well?

let's not think about it.

how was your weekend?