Despite the fact that I have not been able to remember most of my dreams lately past a few minutes after I wake up, I remembered my dream last night. As usual, the dream was very strange.
In my dream, my three year old son Connor was misbehaving and throwing a little tantrum while we were out shopping. He accidentally hit a man in a suit who was standing near us. No harm was done as he is only three and he wasn't hitting forcefully anyway; he was just preoccupied with his tantrum and hadn't noticed that there was a man standing near him.
But the man was not satisfied with my scolding Connor. He pressed charges! And we had to go to court. The courts decided that Connor was not getting the discipline he needed at home and it was ordered that he be put into a group home.
Everyone, including his dad, were resigned to this fate. The courts had decided and there was nothing we could do, seemed to be the general idea. But no way was I letting ANYONE take my baby away from me, especially not in his formative years! I was furious with how ridiculous the whole situation was and how stupid the courts were being, and I was ready for war.
I don't know how that dream ended because the next thing I knew, I was in another dream.
In this dream, my childhood friend Caryn came to visit me. She was outside in the car and I went out to help her get her things. I expected her two boys to be in the car with her, but instead there were two beautiful little twin five year old girls in the back seat. Caryn explained to me that she and her husband were fostering them and hoped to someday adopt the two little girls.
After her visit, Robert and I started discussing adopting a child. We called social services and they were quick to bring us two sisters. The girls were about two and four years old, and their hair fell in the most beautiful red ringlets. They each had a tiny smattering of freckles across their noses, and I was smitten with them immediately.
I woke up at that point in the dream.