Soft light filled a large, open home furnished in white and beige, where the sounds of people milling through the house were softened and drifted away like gentle mist. Two long, beige-carpeted flights of stairs led to open-designed loft areas where tall, puffy, perfectly-made beds awaited. Even though it was day, and I knew that a lot of people filled the house, I couldn’t see any of them, and I had a childhood-memory sense that it was early morning and people were up, but it was alright to just lie there on an upper loft and relax, letting go completely.
Council was a crawling infant and had just learned how to go downstairs face forward. She awoke from our bed and proceeded down the stairs. At first I just listened to her go, making little thumps as she reached each step. Then I realized she had made it all the way down one flight of stairs, turned on a landing, and was halfway down the next flight.
I worried a bit watching her but then realized that she was doing well. She made it all the way to the next level below. There was a big mattress spread out there with nice white linens and puffy blankets, and she spread out on the mattress and lay there to go to sleep. She looked totally blissful. Her body was much larger in the dream than it was at the time in reality. She looked like a really huge baby. I smiled down at her, knowing she was safe and snug. My baby had signalled a phase of growth—a phase of me turning back to myself.
I lay back on my bed, another big comfy cushy thing with lovely white linens. With the baby returned to sleep, I could cuddle with my husband. We nestled in each other’s arms in a moment of perfection.