Kaylan Buteyn (she/her)
Big Dreams, March 2021
Studio scraps, yarn, glue, vinyl, and acrylic on panel
16"w x 15"h
I want sleep to be a place where I am able to retain autonomy- ownership over my body, my thoughts, my time. Where I can sink back into myself for a while, without hands tugging at me, voices crying out to me, mouths asking and asking and asking for more than I can give.
I head upstairs after a long day. I'm with my children constantly, we are together in our home all the time. I can't wait for their bedtime, for freedom to relax and be alone with my thoughts. I'm excited to find solace in my bed, to turn on the light and burrow down with a good book. I trod up the stairs eager.
Shit. Someone beat me here. I see a sweaty head peeping out from the covers, a body flopped diagonally across my place. I can't read, or think or scroll my phone now. Again, I find myself with another. Again, a small body touches me. I feel his breath, his eyelids fluttering as he dreams. I shove my child towards the middle of the bed and close my eyes. I waver in and out of consciousness, longing for peace, for space, for time to myself. Warm tears seep out of my eyes, frustration mixed with guilt. Isn't this everything I ever wanted? A home, a family, work I love? Why does it feel so overwhelming? Why has the sweetness turned sour?
Just as I am about to drift off, a little hand wraps around my shoulder. There's dirt under his fingernails and I make a mental note to get him in the bath in the morning. I nod off to the rhythm of his breathing, taking deep breaths of my own. I don't feel peace, but I do feel gratitude. I find my way towards unconsciousness and the place where my own big dreams await.