It’s 4:57 am right now.

Already, I hear a few birds chirping from outside, despite no sun in sight, outside still pitch black.

I am typing this blog post while sitting in my dimly lit kitchen. In the bedroom, my daughter is still fast asleep and hope she continues to sleep for another hour (i.e. until 6:00am) or better yet, another 2 hours.

Though I had a number of different dreams throughout last night — partaking in a college brawl, witnessing a school burn down due to a fire, baby elephants wearing shower caps and blowing bubbles — the one that shook me awake was my daughter moving to Costa Rica with her mom. At the tail end of the dream, I was moving to Colorado with my new wife (a friend of mine from junior high — so random – someone who I haven’t thought of for multiple decades) and I asked her as we were driving and moving from Seattle (she was also talking about Google Calendar, again so random). Within my dream, I said to her:

“How and Elliott I see each other? What — she’s going to fly back and forth on Sundays on the weekend.” Even in a dream state, I felt that Elliott flying between the two of us was too harsh on her little body. In my dream, I started crying at the idea of being apart from Elliott.

Then I woke up.

And here I am.

Emotional. Sad. Fascinating how I can feel these emotions so strong so early in the morning, all from a dream: all from a nightmare.

I love that little girl and I’m so glad I am here, in London, raising her.

I don’t know what prompted this sort of nightmare but it was a reminder that I am in the right place, right country, doing the right thing: for her, for me.