The Strangeness of Dreams

I sometimes dreamed at night that,
Out of your tiny wheelchair, you 
Walked up to the bed and your spirited
Face smiled down on me from above—
A dreamlike role reversal of the child
Reassuring the mother that all would be
Alright. Everything ok the day would
Shift unnoticed back into night and I would 
Pull the cocoon over my body and lie
Curled in the fetal position a little longer
Before living took me and not you
From the womb too early and I must
Stumble to your room pretending to be 
Well rested and lift you into the real world
Buckling you carefully into your
Wheelchair and push cheerfully 
Together to roll into the day ahead.

And in the strangeness of dreams
I sometimes dreamed during the day 
That I was not tired from all the lifting and 
Buckling and caring and loving but holding
You close I could feel your small heart
Beat with its pounding power greater than its
Size and your arms around my neck were like
Jumper cables connecting your
Heart that I never dreamed would be
Powerful to mine that I never dreamed would
Tire and fade dim.

Day or night, I sometimes dreamed 
The strangest of dreams— that I had the 
Power to interpret like a biblical Joseph 
Wrestling with fat cows and skinny cows &
Sorting out solutions for famine in a world
That has no idea what to do with a feast.