I've been thinking a lot about adoption in the last couple of days, thanks entirely to Dawn's extraordinary journal. It should be required reading for anyone who labors under the misconception that adoption is an easy avenue to becoming a parent. It should be required reading for anyone with a soul, in fact, but your soul is your own business so I can't really insist.
However. I have been thinking about adoption.
So much so, in fact, that last night I dreamed Paul and I went to China.
I have always wanted to go to China. My top two priorities:
- See the Great Wall in many different places so that I can marvel at the different construction methods and materials used in each region
- Stare at the mountains, which I am told actually do look the way they're portrayed in classical paintings
It's no surprise, then, that my dream prominently featured those cuttlebone mountains and the Great Wall. It also featured a visit to an orphanage and the acquisition of a tiny, solemn-faced daughter.
In my waking mind, adoption is a distant possibility, one to consider when I feel we've exhausted our other options (or exhausted my body, anyway). My dreaming mind clearly has other ideas.
The dream was worth it alone for the startling spectacle of Paul in proletariat blue, riding a rickety bicycle toward the Forbidden City.