In the Womb

I woke up exhausted this morning. Must have been from all the cross country trekking through Freud territory last night. I boarded a train for a ski trip - I'm finding train trips and their wild disorganization seem to be a common theme of late - and emerged on the snow with my skiis and a surf board for good measure. I opted to take to the water. The surfboard turned into a small boat just in time as people started shouting that a shark had been sighted. This massive pair of jaws erupted from the depths, only to be revealed that it was a grizzly bear a guy had captured and was now - quickly - transporting by raft. The raft skimmed the water faster and faster until it was flying. I was flying. The raft touched down in the woods and the grizzly bear started to run as I flew past him. The forest was incredibly dense but I flew deeper into the woods, knowing that I risked losing speech, sight - even sense of self in order to get to the heart of the forest. But I had to keep moving deeper into the forest.

Retreat into the womb? Searching for my baby? That bowl of Cracklin Oat Bran right before bed?

Last night Caleb sleepwalked downstairs. When I asked him about it, he seemed shocked to remember it. He said he had been looking for our son who he was afraid had been left in the backyard.

Weird.