the Max Dream

In the altered words of Martin Luther King, Jr. - "I had a dream!"

Yesterday I had a migraine. When I sense one coming on, my first strategy is to sleep it off. Many times that works for me and yesterday was not much different in that regard. I slept and when I awoke it was still there but not at full throttle. Knowing of others with much more severe migraine issues, I am glad to have something that works for me.

Anyway, as I was sleeping I had a terrible dream. I was talking with my son in his 9-year old state, but we were in a 'museum' from which he could not leave. That's because he was dead. The wounds on his head were from a golf club, some kind of iron/wedge by the looks of it. Apparently he had been killed by a violent idiot who had struck him in the head. First, a single killing blow on one side and then some blows, for effect, on the other side. And it was rather strange that we could talk while I was alive and he was dead. And he couldn't leave because he was actually on display. Apparently, the event was newsworthy in a sick tourist kind of way.

What bothered me most was the twisted ability to connect with my son but not being able to really connect with my son. No hugging. No high fives or fist bumps. No playing soccer or basketball. Just talking at odd (after business) hours. Not being able to leave together. He had to remain in his designated spot and I could only speak with him. That's such a big departure from our normal relationship that it bothers me even now as I recall those dream-world constraints. We are two physical guys. We wrestle. We smell each other (if you think that's weird you're ok, so does the rest of our family!). We play sports, tease and punch. We often 'wruggle' (a combo of wrestling and snuggling) at the end of a day.

Even though a wacky, migraine-induced dream prompted this, I'm so glad for the relationship we have. It's hard to think of it being different. Yet some day in some ways it will be that way; we will be limited in how and when we connect. [hopefully, his head won't be bashed in by a golf club.] Thank you Max for loving me even though I've got lots to learn about being a father. Thank you God for my son; thank you for our sweet relationship.