For the past couple of nights I’ve had either bad or jarring dreams, the kind where you wake up suddenly and either don’t know where you are or are not sure that whateveritwas was a dream. Last night was the worst to date.
I dreamed that my adoption group came to repossess, so to speak, Hunky. The reason given was that I’d signed a contract that basically promised I would put his well being first and do nothing that might cause him harm, and they felt that my taking him to the UK was dangerous for him. So, feeling justified and strangely enough with a lawyer in tow, they showed up at my door and dragged my heart-dog out my front door, leaving me sobbing on the floor in the stairwell.
The dream went on in snippets, with me trying to figure out where they were keeping him and eventually begging to see him. I was told no, that he would adjust better to life without me if I never saw him again. I woke up, interestingly enough not in the tears I had streaming down my face in my dream, but resolved to get on my email and let the adoption group know that I was coming to get my Hunky.
Weird, huh? I’ll tell you this, though, I have NEVER been so glad to be awakened by my old man standing up and turning around on his dog bed. Never.