Brian and I were in this huge circular building for an autism conference. Everywhere you looked there were doors and floods of people. We were told that behind every door was a different class or specialist for us to see. And we should really get to them all.
But for some reason we never made it to a door. We worked against the tide of people, me holding on to his hand with a death grip, and him being way more placated and quiet than usual. However, every time we got to a door, I’d turn around to look at Brian, and then the door wasn’t there anymore.
I wanted to melt on the floor and cry. There were people I needed to talk to. There were classes I needed to attend. I needed more answers and I needed someone to tell me what the next step was and what I have missed on this journey. There was a sense of urgency and a creeping feeling of overwhelming anxiety that if I didn’t get into one of these doors, the world was going to come crashing down around us.
And suddenly there weren’t any other people around us. It was dark and the halls were empty. And it was just Brian and I. Him, lying in my lap sleeping, and me crying.
Then I woke up. I woke up breathless and anxious and with my heart pounding. I reached for my phone, thinking I missed my alarm, to find out it was only two in the morning.
The dream was still as vivid as could be. It wasn’t one that took an expert to peel apart and find the meaning behind. As usual, this week has been a whirlwind. On top of work, summer camps, summer school and life I’ve been juggling around appointments and phone calls with our case manager, a social worker, a special ed teacher, our pediatrician, our developmental pediatrician and trying to get a referral to a gastroenterologist. I’ve been scheming and reviewing new insurance laws and pulling every string I can to get our names pushed up on waiting lists. There are areas in Brian’s life that are amazing right now . But there are other areas that right now are the hardest they’ve ever been and I don’t feel like I have the time to give him the consistency and care that he needs. I’ve been worried a lot. I never know if I’m doing everything I can and I always wonder if I’m missing something. I am my own worst critic.
I tossed and turned until my alarm did finally go off at 5:30. I pulled myself out of bed with a pounding headache and tried to shake off the dream. Tried to start a new day without worrying about autism and the future and just get through today.