Me And My Shadow

My guys - I think I'll keep them

A friend posted today about a dream she had - her doxie had jumped out of a hot air balloon over water, and swam to shore.  It made me wonder why I never dream about Moose, but then I realized - I'm not entirely certain anymore that my subconscious registers him as a separate entity.

He's always been a lap dog extraordinaire - but ever since I have been mostly working from home, he is always there.  It's almost like I had a procedure - an addapuptome, if you will, where he was surgically implanted.  Not that I'm complaining, you understand.  He's generally twirled around my midsection like a comma of love, a furry brown tutu generating warmth and oxytocin molecules in equal amounts when we're sitting down, and if we're laying down, he's cuddled up at the small of my back, or the joint of my knees (or occasionally vulturing from the top of the pillow over my head.) 

So even when I'm dreaming and he's not the star of the show, his warmth still anchors me to reality - the lifeline that lets me wander as far as I want, knowing that there will always be a beacon back home.  His father does the same thing for me emotionally - when I'm wandering off into the fields of frustration and despair, Roger brings me back, calms me down and reminds me of all the good in the world (and how lucky I am to have found it.)  I am truly a blessed woman.