Each night before bed, Ellis and I decide where we are going to meet in our dreams.
It started one night when she couldn’t sleep. Like mothers everywhere who have reached the end of a long day and are ready for everyone in the house to close their eyes, I was desperate. We had tried all the usual tricks: an extra book, water and a sleep mask. Finally, I told her to think happy thoughts.
Not one to miss an opportunity to stay up and chat, she did not quietly ponder them. Instead, she began describing a place where we could play with unicorns and eat cotton candy clouds as we flew through the sky.
I told her that if she thought about it hard enough while taking deep, relaxing breaths, she would probably dream about it. Listen. I have absolutely no science to support this theory. I was simply trying to get a child to go to sleep.
As we lay there for a minute, though, I found myself wishing I could have the same dream. Somehow, that thought came out as a question. Apparently, I don’t quietly ponder, either.
“Can I meet you there?”
And that was how Ellis and I began planning our dream dates.
I do not know exactly how long we have been doing it. Maybe a little more than a year? It is not every night, but we have certainly ramped it up lately.
Ellis comes up with the most beautiful scenarios. We have visited beaches with mermaids and white chocolate seashells that never melt or get sand stuck to them. She dreams up talking kittens that never scratch, schools where the only subjects are recess and art, adventures with her girl gang and mountains covered in raspberries.
The parts about the sand and soft claws are my contributions. Ellis supplies the magic. I add the practical details.
Last night, I asked if we could meet in a sunflower field.
“With a treehouse!” she immediately responded.
Naturally, the treehouse needed shelves filled with books and art supplies. We added a rope swing, too. And, of course, our unicorn friends would be there to pose for us while we painted their portraits in our art room.
Our plans can get a little elaborate, but they are never boring.
Recently, Fin and Connor overheard us plotting our nighttime adventure and were very confused about what we were discussing. We explained that we meet in our dreams. I believe that night’s plans involved eating cake beside a rainbow after spending the day at a mermaid beach.
The boys scoffed for a minute.
“You don’t want to party with us in your dreams?” I asked.
They shrugged their shoulders as if to say there were worse things they could dream about.
I am not sure whether they actually joined us, but the invitation remains open.
The truth is, I never know where Ellis will take us. There might be kittens waiting to carry on a full conversation or a school where no one has ever heard of homework. We could climb raspberry mountains, paint all afternoon or set off on an adventure with her favorite girls. Whatever she creates, there is always room for one more bit of magic – and usually one very practical amendment from me.
Ellis has always been our little muse. She is funny, imaginative and completely willing to believe that an ordinary bedtime can become the beginning of an extraordinary adventure. Somehow, that girl has given her 40-something mama permission to use her imagination again, too.
There are so many parts of childhood we try to preserve for our children. We save the artwork, take the pictures and write down the funny things they say. But sometimes, if we are lucky, they preserve a little something in us, too.
Ellis reminds me that imagination does not have an age limit. Wonder is not something we have to outgrow. Even after the longest, most ordinary day, there is still time for a date with someone you love somewhere beautiful, impossible and entirely your own.
Tonight, we will close our eyes and meet there.
Sleep well, friends.
