Of dreams and nappies
I was part of a true life “Inception”-like mind fuck of a dream last night.
I dreamt we found you. You were five months old and while we thought you had died, they’d actually whisked you away to an orphanage. There were rows and rows of hospital issue baby cots full of babies and we found you. All I remember was that you needed your nappy changed and you needed milk and, instead of holding you, this is what I spent my time trying to find. We did find them, brought them to you and then I woke up. And I what-the-fucked for a while. And then I actually woke up and cried – more than I’ve cried in a few weeks now.
A dream within a dream within a dream.
I suppose that’s life now. Still surreal. Still not sure what’s real and what’s not. Still not sure if the drugs they gave me for the C-section didn’t put me into a coma and this life I’m living is just my brain’s way of coping while outside of my head life has carried on without me and, who knows, you may just be okay.
Mind fuckery – 1; me – 0.