I had a long series of dreams last night. In one an emotionally extravagant friend of mine came through the window like a good witch, bringing many people with her, some of them quite old, and speaking of transcendence.
Then, my son was an infant. He was very quiet and serious and suddenly I realized I hadn't breastfed him all day. I wasn't sure if I could, but when he suckled I could see the milk coming, although I couldn't feel it and my breasts were their usual size and not engorged at all. He did not seem ravenous, but merely performed his part dutifully.
A previous night, he was grown up and some calamity had befallen him. As I rushed to his aid I thought thankgod it's not the worst that has happened.
I hate waking up.