As a parent of a child with special needs, I’ve found myself dreaming of the day my son might be “typical,” “normal,” or “developmentally on track.” It’s a dream I suspect many parents share, and one I’ve experienced numerous times.
This particular dream was different, though. My son had transformed into a teenager, and while he’s only five, my tired mind has perhaps been influenced by too much late-night TV. In this dream, he was sleeping soundly in a queen-sized bed — a far cry from the twin bed he currently has. As I entered his room to wake him for school, I was still met with the reality of my boy, who has cerebral palsy and limited speech, relying on his wheelchair. I had even brought his clothes, a comfy pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, prepared for the morning routine.
When I nudged him awake, he rolled over and somehow contorted himself under the bed, showcasing the oddities of dream logic. Peering down, he brushed his hair aside and groaned, “Mom, give me a minute!”
Dreams like this typically follow one of two paths: either he’s always been the typical child I wished for, or he’s miraculously recovered from his condition. This time, it was the latter.
I dashed out of his room and called for his father and siblings, but only my mom appeared. It seems in my subconscious, she’s always present. Together, we watched as he ambled toward us, looking like a typical teenager in a grungy plaid shirt and jeans — not at all the outfit I had laid out. Yet, he was still my son. He grinned knowingly, fully aware that what was happening was extraordinary. As I rushed to him, tears streamed down my face, while my mom feigned a dramatic fainting spell, overwhelmed with emotion.
“But how?” I asked, bewildered.
He simply shrugged. “I don’t know. I just woke up this way.” His smile, with those familiar dimples from when he was five, melted my heart as he patted my arm like I was an elderly lady.
As the dream began to fade, it transitioned into a more sobering scene with his pediatrician, who expressed concern over the sudden changes while he lounged casually, munching on cereal with his legs draped over an armchair. I wished I could have lingered in that dream for longer; it felt so vivid.
But reality called, and I had to rise. It was a Monday, with no snow as predicted, and he had preschool and speech therapy to attend. He’s five, not fifteen, and this is our present.
Later, while I helped him put on his leg braces, I shared the dream with him. I described how tall he was, how he spoke, and how he’d smiled at me. He listened intently, almost as if taking notes for a future that might be, even if just in my dreams.
I know more dreams will come, and I’ll always hold onto the hope that one day, he might stand tall beside me and share his thoughts with ease.
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In summary, dreams of a “normal” life for my son encapsulate a parent’s hopes and aspirations. While reality may not align with those dreams, the love and support within our family continue to foster an environment where anything is possible.
Keyphrase: Dreams of a typical child
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