i went to my son’s 3rd grade presentation on cultural diversity yesterday. each third grade class represented a different country. my son’s class was Egypt. the other classes had selected Japan and Brazil.

as they filed on stage in that deliberate clumsy way large groups of children do, i tried to catch my son’s gaze. i could see him scanning the crowd, unable to find me, looking disappointed. then our eyes locked, his face lit up, and we waved. after that, he looked happier for the rest of the presentation. he was one of the kids who sang quietly, shifted his weight from one foot to the other with his hands jammed into his pockets, and gazed at nothing in particular as his lips moved in the shape of the words he knew so well. occasionally our eyes would meet and he would smile self-assuredly, like he knew something secret that made him happy.

after their songs were over, i found him in the crowd of children, told him he’d done a good job, and let him know i was leaving. he grabbed me by the hand and said “no mama, you have to try the samples of food from the different countries”. his little grip was so solid. i felt so fortunate to be his mother, to be the one he wanted. we ate soybeans and tropical fruit and hummus (generously donated by Aladdins said the little paper sign) out of tiny plastic sample cups.

its 4am. i can’t sleep. i had bad dreams. my best friend and i were on scooters and there were bad people chasing us. my scooter was battery powered and required a little red metal key to start it. i couldn’t find the key until the last moment. then we fled. my friend got away but then i decided to go visit another friend in a foreign “jail”.

jail. it was just a giant room with lots beds hanging off the wall at various levels, tons of childhood blankets, a kitchen that looked similar to one in a nice hostel i once stayed at in puerto viejo, and lots of tall, skinny, dirty men-boys who looked like they’d been living on the street.

while i was visiting my friend, the “guard” came by and informed me that i had an unpaid parking ticket and i was going to have to stay in jail. at first i didn’t mind. it seemed like it would be fun and i was certain i would get out soon because my offense was so minor.

the problem was that once we were locked in the room, we were forgotten. i was in this jail for what seemed like a very long time with my friend and his tall, skinny brother. the brother had stringy dirty blond hair and he was very nice. i kept asking when i was going to get out and finally they told me that no one was coming back to let us out. i started saying i wanted my mom and dad and the street boys said my parents didn’t have the right personalities to visit me here and it would just be awkward. they were right so i decided to find another solution.

i realized that in real life, i wouldn’t be in jail. then i remembered that lately, i’ve been having strange dreams. i decided to wake up. then i wasn’t in jail anymore. i was in my bed.