I used to watch my children sleep and wonder what they dreamed about. They would twitch and move around as if their dreams were full of adventure and excitement. I’d lean against the wall or door frame and just memorize their faces and listen to their breathing. My oldest son, so full of energy and brimming with enthusiasm would run through his dreams the same way he ran through his days. The same way he still does. My younger son, precise and thoughtful, would dream the way he lives. And I would watch them sleep and savor the silence as I memorized their childhood. I knew one day those children would be replaced by adults and they’d move out and on with life.
Today I spend my time watching my Mother sleep and I wonder what she dreams of. Does she dream of life with dad, does she dream of meeting up with him someday? Are her dreams just empty wishes for an end to the nightmare of her waking hours, or do the medications she takes give her the only happy moments to her days? Every so often she jerks awake and looks at me with tears and fear and asks where we are and what will happen to her. I answer in honesty”mom, we are in your room and whatever happens I will go through with you.” And she nods her head and closes her eyes and drifts back off while I sit quietly and just watch her sleep.
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