Wednesday, February 15, 2012


So I don't remember my dreams very often.  Maybe once a month, maybe less.  When I do remember them, however, they tend to be crystal-clear (if often quite bizarre -- I remember once on my mission I dreamed that I was about to be a human sacrifice while touring around on a yellow submarine.  Like I said, bizarre.)

This morning I had a dream that was a bit different.  For once it actually had something to do with what's going on in my life.

I dreamed that I was adopted.

I'm not sure how old I was -- certainly I was an adult, since I was still about to adopt Max, but I think I was also a bit younger (Jason was nowhere to be found).  So in this dream I do the total cliche thing -- I find some document among my mother's things that shows that I was adopted. I confront her about it, of course and I don't remember how that conversation went.

What I remember was all of the rationalization that went on in my mind as I tried to make sense of this news.  I thought about a photo of myself, my mother, and my aunt, in which we look like blonde, brunette and red-headed triplets and wondered how on earth such a strong family resemblance could have happened.  I thought about my sister (who is 6 years younger than I am and still looks like my twin in the right circumstance) and asked about it.  (The answer to this one was that she was also adopted, we were half-sisters.  Apparently my dream-self still couldn't figure out how to get out of such a strong resemblance.)  All of the stories about my birth ran through my head -- picking out my name at Burger King the night before I was born, my father gabbing with the doctor about all the cool machines while my mom was in labor, that kind of thing.  Even in my dream these things confused me -- how could my parents (who I know love me) have lied to me about this?  Why make up all these stories?

I am not telling you about this dream to trivialize the experience of being adopted -- obviously my weird dream-self doesn't know what it's really like any more than my real-life-self.  But for a little while this morning I believed otherwise -- and it totally rocked my world.

I'm not sure how much I really buy into the whole interpretation of dreams thing.  But I know what this was about -- because that was the next part of the dream.

Enter Max stage left.  (OK, there was no stage, just that misty dreamscape).

My dream-self was able to talk to Max about the experience of being adopted in a way that I only hope that my real-life-self will be able to.  Empathy and shared experience was the order of the day.  We connected through our adoptive stories.

In real life this is something that I can't do.  And I think that is what this dream was really about.  Not so much about adoption itself, but about the desire to connect with my son on some deep, fundamental level.  I will have to find other connections instead.  I don't know what they will be yet.  But we will find them.

Together, we will find them.

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