Fantasy is not all that fantastic

That's my C., floating on her back today

The relief over C.'s latest blood work seems to have infiltrated my subconscious. The result was a very happy dream last night. It was yet another version of a fantasy that visits me about once a year. In it, C. is either perfectly healthy or just better than she is. She either talks or walks or both.

Last night I saw her walking independently and pointing to her facial features as I name them. My subconscious was careful to fantasize realistically. So C.'s walking was imperfect, her pointing wasn't utterly precise and she wasn't verbal.

The dream had me meeting my super-hero pediatrician shortly after these dramatic developments. But I refrain from sharing the news with him lest he burst my bubble by warning that the improvement could prove fleeting.

These recurrent fantasies are very annoying. I wake up disappointed and struggle to re-digest the grim reality.

Later this morning, at the start of C.'s hydro session, while I was in the corridor, I overheard her therapist exclaiming "Terrific! Terrific!" I hastened back to the pool and snapped C. demonstrating one of her real feats (above): kicking-after-a-fashion while floating on her back.