Being at peace with me

Last night, I dreamed that I was taking care of the littlest baby. One of my friends had to do something, and their baby needed to sleep, so I nestled the kid into the crook of my neck and they fell asleep. I didn’t know much about this baby and I don’t remember who the friend was. It was something that needed doing and I was happy to do it.

(Side-note: if you haven’t had a baby fall asleep on you, it’s kinda like a cat doing it, only better. You feel validated in a completely uncomplicated way: like you are trustworthy and soft and good, forever).

Midway through this dream, a child psychologist, another friend, came to pick up the kid. They were livid: why had I allowed the child to fall asleep on my body, why hadn’t I done the hard work of making them sleep in the crib, now all the precious sleep-training was wasted, this would ruin the kid forever, bla bla bla. I wasn’t into the lecture, as you can tell, but it was obvious that this person felt they had left clear instructions for the care of their kid, and the instructions hadn’t been followed. That part I could definitely relate to as scary.

(Side-note number two: I have very strong feelings about “sleep-training.” I never did it to my child. I wanted her to know, with certainty, that whenever she called me, I would be there for her. This doesn’t mean I solve her every problem: these days, being there for her means mostly holding space for her processing, joy, and grief. But as a baby, yes, I 100% was there whenever she cried. Even at 3am in the morning).

In my dream, I had it out with the child psychologist. I held onto the baby, asleep, in the crook of my neck. I argued that I hadn’t sleep-trained my own child, and she had turned out pretty well. I argued that I had kept the baby safe, with me, learning to trust warmth and human contact, learning that there is safety in community. This went on for a while, and I don’t remember how we resolved it.

I have written before about dreams, and how every person in them is ourselves. And so, this morning, I am sitting with my own processing. Which parts of me need to rest? What conventional thinking in me have I ignored? How has my reliance on human connection, on intuition and trust, contributed to flout conventions?

I am over half a century old. I haven’t always followed a straight path. There is a lot to process. And, paradoxically, this processing feels like the rest I need: I am at peace.