The Cerebral Mum

Since last weekend I have been dreaming vividly but I wake in fog, and Caspar is there waving and wanting to get up. I used to wake up like that, clear headed, eagerly leaping into the day.

It’s hard to recall the dreams when Caspar is demanding immediate attention and my head is blurry.

Last night, there was a train journey. Off to the left, there was a slope with houses on it. I thought there was a mudslide but it wasn’t quite right. Some of the house looked like they had been crushed from above, some of them looked like they had crumpled. They had an almost rubbery quality; cartoonish, or elastic like skin.

There was another part with a bed, positioned to look directly down a long, narrow corridor of old buildings and at the end of the corridor there was a magnificent clock on a facade. I thought it would be a wonderful place to wake up. I wanted to go to bed there but something else was happening. Something that made me uncomfortable. I know there was a male presence, not a threatening one, but I’ve lost the details now.

And the awful last part: Submerged in a deep bath with a disabled baby, trying to keep it’s head above water. I tried to find a shallow but where the plug should have been was a deep cylindrical hole and we were in it. I held the baby as high as I could but I couldn’t reach high enough. The baby’s face was kind of vacant, but he ( I think it was a he) felt alive in my hands. I wondered if it was too late. I felt too exhausted to figure out a way to get to safety I just kept trying to reach higher although my arms were just not long enough. I was sickened by my lack of urgency, but I couldn’t… I don’t know what it was I couldn’t do. I think I just wanted to go to sleep.