A couple of nights ago I woke up from a nightmare -- that my son had died. It was, to be frank, sickening, and I woke up in the wee hours knowing that it was a dream but still distressed. And when I fell back asleep a bit later, I went right back into the dream.
When my son got up yesterday morning, I made the poor teenage boy give me a hug -- a real hug, not that slight touch he thinks passes for a hug. He sat with me for a minute, told me about a nightmare he had once, and then stayed awhile petting the dogs and chatting.
Last week I asked him if the oxytocin spray he had started using over the summer was helping. He said yes, but he couldn't tell me how it was helping. Well, now I know. And isn't that fabulous?!