Around 5 o'clock this morning, I woke up happy. Not because it was 5 a.m., seeing as how I had not gone to bed until after 12. And not because I finally got to put Benjamin, who woke me just two hours prior with his crying, back in his bed. What made me happy was the dream from which I woke.
I was in college, the first day of my sophomore year. We were all back from various terrific summer vacations and we met up in the cafeteria for the evening meal. Me, and like twelve other girls. A random cast of characters including friends from now and even some from high school, because after all, I was dreaming. Anyhow, we just started talking, and we were young, and we were smart and each of us was pretty in her own way. It felt like I was living in a well-written Grey's Anatomy scene. Only we weren't doctors, we were all English majors. And do you know what we talked about? Writing.
It was delicious.
After I put Ben in his crib, I went to the bathroom. Sitting there, half awake, I realized the source of my dream. Last night I went out to see a chick flick with two gal pals. Around 6:30, we grabbed girly sandwiches at a deli next to the theater. After eating and chatting we caught a funny, smart movie. Then we sat in my friends car, in the plaza parking lot and talked. And talked. Nearly two more hours passed before I began to yawn uncontrollably and had to send myself home.
Neither of these women are writers. I'm not sure they even read very much, but right now, they are the closest friends I have. I can be myself around them and say whatever pops in my head without worrying what they might think.
Just a couple hours of carefree time -- no mothering, money worries, or cleaning of any kind. Exactly what I needed to induce a peaceful, albeit short, energizing night of sleep. Thanks girls. We'll have to do it again sometime. Sooner, rather than later please.