So, I’m a big dreamer.
As in, I dream a lot.
You know, when I’m sleeping.
Rarely a night goes by without me having some kind of odd notion involving pickles, or an umbrela, or giant squid.
Since Behbeh, however, the dreams have taken a rather sinister turn.
Now I dream about Behbeh.
Specifically the bazillion ways Behbeh and Death could meet.
Dreaming of my child’s death does not jive with healing sleep. More often than not, both Husband and I wake in the morning bleary eyed and cranky. This, in sharp relief to the hysterical panic that has me checking on Behbeh multiple times a night.
I’m getting better at catching myself. Now, I’m generally the one saying “It’s only a dream” rather than Husband.
The doesn’t mean I’m not affected, however.
Behbeh is currently not allowed to wear hooded sweat shirts, bathe in more than 1″ of water or visit any residence home to a large snake.