Postcards

My son's been having horrible insomnia recently, and last night he came up to me at 4 am, and asked if he could sleep in my bed. 

I was a little unhappy to be woken, but as a result, I think, I remembered a very pure, beautiful, real feeling dream I'd been having that I wouldn't have known about otherwise. So I'm grateful, because my dreams are sometimes funny, but mostly stressy these days, full of vague anxieties or embarrassments, but rarely comforting or beautiful, to my frustration. But this was very sweet, perfect and comforting, not much more than a hug, but a longed-for one. 

I told the real-life recipient about it, with a little bit of trepidation, because I once told a friend I'd had a sex dream about him when I was pregnant, and he and his girlfriend decided between them that it was because I had 'latent desires' for him, and that was maybe the end of our friendship. And it's something I'm still sad about today, because I really didn't, and I think they still believe it, which is really awkward, and also tragic, because I loved him so very much and valued his friendship, and it was a big loss. And I was and am so disappointed in him, for that response. So the moral of the story is, I can't learn to shut up about things, and it wrecks things for me. 

But this is ok. 

I don't feel I have any man I could ask for a hug in actuality - my son, yes, but I don't want him to feel responsible for my emotional comfort, and my godfather gives good ones, but they're for hellos and goodbyes, and I appreciate them very deeply, but ... it's different. 

And I know if I met an old friend, Mark, he would give me his most remarkable and excellent hugs, but I only see him maybe once a year, despite the fact that we live up the road from each other - it's one of those modern life things - I think he'd like to hang out with Niall and myself, but we never get round to it, probably due to how hermitty we all are. 

And I don't want to push it. All my life I've pushed myself on people, while being terrified I was doing it, but doing it anyway because it was the only way to get any social interaction. And now, I'm pretty happy to do without it, I think I'm far more cautious about it - I exhaust myself in the company of other people, what must it do to them? And I confess, here where it's safe to, because I'm mostly really writing to myself, I'm deeply self-conscious about what it feels like to hug me, I'm so well-upholstered, especially right now, hard to stretch arms around, maybe, I don't want my belly and breasts to press awkwardly against anyone too much - but in my dream it was easy and fluid, to step into someone's arms and be held against their heart, on the beach, in the dark, with the sand of the surf hitting the shore in the background, finally, a decade of love and caring come home.