Thalia, the sack of potatoes

Last night I had a dream about Thalia.  It wasn't one of those really weird dreams that only makes sense  while you're asleep, and then you wake up and go, "What the crap?" (like the one that I had about Maizie, in which she was delivered to me by mail, in a blue and white striped shoebox, and I was shocked to discover that she had a human head but doll's body).   It was a dream that felt totally normal and like an extension of my regular life, and it's left me missing her all day.

We were in some sort of hotel or something, and she was sitting down in a chair and I was squatting down in front of her.  I was testing her to see how much English she knew, and I was surprised that not only did she understand what I was saying, but that she could speak to me a little bit too.  Then she put her hands on my cheeks and looked right into my eyes, and we gave each other a huge hug.  She was sweet and giggly and snuggly.  After that, even though she's 7 (and about the size of a 5-year-old), I hiked her up on my hip and lugged her around like a toddler.  She was very heavy, and because of her low tone, she wasn't doing much to help hold on.  It was like lugging around a sack of potatoes.  Later, I was giving her a bath, and she fell over, beneath the water level.  I reached in to grab her, but found that I had to use all my strength to get her upright again.  She didn't use any of her own muscles to help with the effort.  After the bath, the memory of my dream is vague, but I remember just being with her and being so happy.  I was so disappointed when I woke up, and I kept trying to get back to sleep and pick up where I left off.  No such luck.

I think my brain was plugging in experiences I've had with the kids I've worked with who have Down syndrome.  Having low muscle tone is pretty much a given.  But the personality she seemed to have seemed so right.  I felt like I really knew her and she was just so mine.  

I miss her and I haven't even met her yet.