The dreams are still very real. I hate waking up nowadays. Not because it means that I have to get out of bed, but because I have to open my eyes and leave it all behind. I have to realize there is not a sleeping baby in my arms anymore, my body holds no life but my own, and the elation will not be felt again until I close my eyes the following night. It makes me impatient, and that small voice in my mind whispers to me that I will never have such things in my life.  

I cherish every minute of every day and I am not looking to fast forward the years of my life to get to that point, but my heart aches. My arms seem empty. My soul longs for the joy I feel in my dreams, and the joy that will far surpass anything I can imagine feeling.