If my daughter has a bad dream and wants to get into my bed, I'm a sucker for her sweet face and warm body next to mine, so I let her jump in. I should tell her to go to bed, but secretly I love it.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
In bed my real love has always been the sleep that rescued me by allowing me to dream.
My mother used to sit at the foot of my bed, and she would share her dreams with me.
But I don't begrudge anybody, because I know how hard it is to have that dream and to make it happen, whether or not it's just to put a roof over your head and food on the table.
I don't feel like a dream girl, but I think it's really nice. I guess a part of me wishes I got that sort of attention in my real life. Because in my real life, I'm this weird, dorky girl who just hangs out with her dog.
I'm like a child inside and I really get excited, so sometimes when I'm trying to go to bed, I'm so excited about the next day that I can't go to sleep.
It just didn't feel right to let my child scream and holler and thrash by her little self in the dark in her crib when I knew full well that a little rocking in her glider, maybe a song and a sweet nuzzle of her cheek would send her off to dreamland.
When you're mid-season, in very intense situations, it's hard not to take that home with you. Especially when you're sleeping, you can't control what you dream about. And it sneaks into the unconscious.
Bedtime rituals for children ease the way to the elsewhere of slumber - teeth brushing and pajamas, the voice of a parent reading, the feel and smell of the old blanket or toy, the nightlight glowing in a corner.
I think, for the benefit of our parents, the perfect night out would be when Cate and I touch the wall and we tie. This is what they dream - that we'll both win. Because then they don't have to pick a favourite child.
I don't dream - only if I'm uncomfortable or I'm going through something.
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