What do spinning, roller coasters, New York City, the Golden Gate Bridge, stolen building stones, helicopters and trains under water, a broken lock to a construction site, an elevated train that ran out of track flew through the air landing on a person in the East River and a bitten cheek have in common? Answer: my dream last night.

When the train landed on that guy in the river, I was so surprised that I bit my own cheek and woke myself up. There is no doubt when I bite my cheek. I feel this crunching feeling and then I taste blood. It was one of the original rude awakenings.

Don’t ask

I have no idea what my dream had to do with my delightful day with our grandchildren. There are probably analysts who could clue me in to universal symbols of dream life: heights, under water, falling, broken locks, construction sites, et cetera. But it could easily have been a bit of undigested beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of underdone potato.

Life of Riley

Words cannot express.

Texture

William is all about feeling textures of anything he can get his hands on. He gets grabby sometimes, but mostly he just rubs his hands on different materials.

This morning, he was exploring the feel, sights and sounds of a plastic water bottle. He seemed to like the crinkly sound it made when he squeezed the sides. He did this for the longest time.

Rhyme

There doesn’t seem to be a rhyme or reason to his expressions. He’ll smile in response to Nanna’s call one time, but not another; raise his eyebrows in response to, I don’t know what. One thing is pretty consistent, though: whenever her sister is in the same room, he looks at her wherever she goes.

Reason

I wonder what it is like to be him as I watch him staring at everything in sight. Maybe his internal environment is not distinguishable from the external. Actually, when you think about it, how could it be otherwise?