Soon after the twins first came home, over six months ago, I began having a recurring waking dream. Here is how it unfolds:
It’s dark. I become aware that the babies are in bed with us. We’ve just finished feeding them. I reach toward them, but what I thought was a baby is just a lump in the covers. I can’t find the baby under all the covers. The baby is suffocating. I become increasingly frantic, looking for the baby, who must be somewhere buried, or has just slipped over the edge of the bed, until I finally at some point realize I am having my recurring waking dream. I look in the nursery and find the babies asleep in their cribs, as usual.
This summer, as we somehow muddled through weeks on two or three non-consecutive hours of sleep per night, these waking dreams recurred on a regular basis. Later, when reading about sleep deprivation and hallucination, I attributed them to the lack of sleep. But though our sleep has increased to a respectable seven hours these days, the dreams have not gone away. Last night, I again woke D up, poking and prodding at the covers looking for babies.
Last month, after our marathon Thanksgiving drive, I realized that I have a constant lurking sensation that I’ve forgotten something. Dropped a ball, let something slide I was supposed to do. Maybe that’s what the dream is reflecting, all those balls in the air. Twins. Life.