Really? Well, it's a nice story even if it's just a dream.

Once in a while I get vivid, lifelike dreams. While it's not quite the same as real life, there is a texture and feel to them that makes me normally enjoy them very much even if the topic is dark or sad. I enjoy them because it's like living another moment in my life while sleeping. Unfortunately, most of the time, it takes me most of the time (in the dream) to manage my own confusion. You know, it would be like suddenly being in a room holding pillow and hammer and sensing there was something that you really needed to do. A little bewildering, don't you think?

I had a dream over the holidays about a topic that's a little raw for me in my waking life. It's been a recurring dream for the last few years.

Up until I was 29 years old, I didn't know what to think about children. I liked them. I was open to having them but didn't really feel the urge. I would see friends have kids and marveled at the little babies. They grow fast and seemed to be handfuls. Well, I just didn't feel the itch.

When I was 30 years old, something changed. I felt what I would describe as a basic urge to have a child. I was married. I had a good career, was on the verge of buying a home, and seemed to want for nothing. Neither of my parents had/has ever pressured me to have children so I was surprised how this feeling developed in that year of my life. I had not really seen myself with children by default. The only way that I had seen myself was in a marriage to the love of my life. Now, those of you who know me, know that I was married at this point and had been for two years. For some reason, I started having this dream sequence around that time and still have once in a while to this day.

Even if I don't have children, I want to put this dream to writing as I think it's a nice moment, imagined or otherwise.

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I am on a beach and there's an onshore breeze. The sun is just above eye-level and there are a few thin clouds in the sky toward the horizon. The entire scene is tinted a little orange and peach from the late day sun and I take a deep breath. Clean, warm air. Dark blue waters. The surf is gentle as the swell-less sea laps onto the beach. The sand slopes a little from where I am standing to the soft surf.

I'm barefoot and the wind is kicking a little sand over my sunken feet. The sand doesn't sting but itches a little. Just as I am about to wrinkle my nose at the discomfort, the air stills. I can hear the cry of a gull far away.

It's a perfect day.

There's a melody in the air. It's a voice behind me and close to the ground. Hesitant, female, and amused. I am focused on.... the other melody though. An accompaniment or echo. It's inconsistent, soft, mumbled through a smile, and punctuated with glee.

As I turn I see her, in a white linen shirt over her beachwear, kneeling and cooing. Her hair is pulled back and she is bent forward while making friendly chatter with such a sincere smile. The light in her eyes flickers as starlight. Holding her arms out in a giving motion, there in-between the hands, is a standing wobbly child. Our child.

The child is only a toddler and young at that. I think it's a boy. And his face is full of joy as he balances on unsteady legs with feet sunken in the sand. He's strong... not just in his body but spirit. I see a light and aspect in his eyes, like I have never seen. I know he will offer happiness to all that know him. And I somehow know he will be kind. I am happy and at peace.

I'm entranced with the light. The light of the day, the light of our eyes. I can't stop staring at my son, except to glance in his mother's eyes. In them, I see the scrunched wrinkles of a smile as her loose hair flags in the breeze over her face. And I feel warm from the spirit outward.

It's a perfect moment.