My Child

If I could find the place where truth exists, I would stand there and whisper memories of my children’s future.

– Saul Williams

Last night a dream quietly spoke a wish to the winds of reality. I dreamt of my child. My baby girl child, again. I was birthing her and got to know her and speak to her and spend time with her and she was really delightful. God as I write this I find myself missing her. I remember in the dream thinking… THIS is reality! I’ve finally made it to this point and she and I can be together now. And I was so disheartened by waking up, I just held my stomach and cried myself back to sleep. In all these dreams she has a name. And every time I dream that name, I wake up, say that I should blog about it immediately and then fear the sleep that I’d miss out on if I wok up at that hour. So I promise to remember it and go back to sleep. And like clockwork, I forget again. I’m so deflated that I don’t even have the energy to really MAKE myself remember. I just know she came by, again, but like before, had to go away. And although I’m glad for her visit… I’m so sorry that it keeps having to be so brief.

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