I had a dream last night. I was so physically tired yesterday that I knew I would sleep well and deeply, so I set my intention to experience a dream that would help to increase my capacity for feeling and integrate any unconscious emotional charges back into neutral circulation. Sleep seems to be a fertile ground for processing what is churning under our awareness, so I was intensely grateful that I was gifted with this dream:
I saw my son, as he is today at 9 years old. Blond mohawk. Lanky, slender frame. Mouth full of freshly installed upper braces. I got the sense that I was following him in secret, like a private investigator…
He went to a place that was completely unfamiliar to me. It looked vaguely like an outdoor shopping mall in the ‘90s. Busy, bustling, cheerful. Outside the storefronts were dozens of white tents, all with people living inside them. My son seemed very much at ease here, and indeed, people smiled and waved at him and called him by name as he walked by. He went into one tent with a few women inside. They obviously knew him well and served him a bowl of some unidentifiable food from a bubbling pot. He gladly accepted the offering and smiled and laughed with them as he tucked into the meal…
When I woke, I was vaguely reminded of a story about a cat that belonged to one family, but would leave during the day to spend time with another. Each family thought this was their cat. Each family called the cat by a different name. Each family loved him…
Then, I felt the rippling echo of what this dream was revealing to me:
I was feeling the resonance of my only child’s transition from baby/young child–who I was completely and constantly enmeshed with–to a young person who is peeling away from me and creating his own life.
The vibration of this change has been quite subtle, like a knob on a radio ever so slowly being turned to a different frequency. It’s been so subtle that I haven’t consciously noticed that constant, underlying static. I have not been presently aware of my own changing feelings during this shift. I have not sat with the sensations and feelings that are under the surface of the everyday realities of watching my child grow up right in front of me. I understand it happens, and it’s absolutely natural, but it has not occurred to me to truly tune into these feelings until now.
I am thankful for this experience that was within the confines of a nighttime dream. It feels like Life has gently eased me into the revelation that I am no longer listening to the same radio station, no longer parenting a tiny little boy, and that I have the capacity to feel into this new phase of motherhood in my waking hours, too.
I don’t have to be left behind, trying to frantically turn the radio knob back to the old station, lamenting and clinging to my precious baby boy. I can properly integrate not only the reality that he is growing up, but all the dynamic, felt changes that come with this ongoing transition. I can (and will) feel ANYTHING, and it is ALL welcome, because it is necessary. Because it is true. Because it is here now to be felt. And I can be a better, less reactive, and more responsive parent by not trying to force him to match an outdated version of himself just to make me more comfortable. Not that that would work anyway…
So, I love and hate this. I grieve the loss of my sweet little round-faced baby and delight in the kind, bright, creative, and hilarious big kid that he is now. I am allowed to fully feel the pangs and stabs, flutters and fullness, and everything else that comes with loving my child.
And all of this, just in time for Mother’s Day…