…… that I love and hate.
I love the dream while I’m sleeping. If given a choice, I’d never wake up from it. Because once I do, I hate the dream.
The dream goes from somewhere I’d love to spend the rest of my life …… to something that’s cruel and leaves me feeling cold, hollow …… and sucker punched.
Jim came back. Yep, after six years. My dream was set in the present. As it is every single time I dream it.
I can’t remember what his explanation was, but as usual, it didn’t matter. I was so overcome by seeing him, that the one detail you would think would be important …… wasn’t.
The most vivid part of my dream, the scene that I remember clearly, was Daughters #2 and #3, and Son #1 driving up in one car, and seeing Jim standing on the porch. And then they were all out of the car, running to him and jumping up on him to hug him for dear life (ironic term, isn’t it?).
I cried while watching it, in my dream.
I may have really cried, in my sleep.
One by one, we had all of the other kids come home, too …… without telling them why.
And each one was just as beyond joyful at seeing him.
I remember the joy.
And then I woke up.
This time …… like the time before, and the time before that, etc, etc, etc …… it took me several moments to realize that the dream …… was not my reality.
And that’s the part I hate.
With every fiber of my being.
I went on with the rest of my day. And really, had a good day.
I’m grateful for that. For the ability to know that this dream is not going to suck the life out of me, or knock me down.
It will not set me back. Even though every time it pops into my head during the day, I feel sad.
I know it’s a momentary sadness.
Even if it lasts a day.
I imagine that this dream will continue to come to my nights for the rest of my life.
Just as the sadness of missing him will come to my days.
But I know that’s ok.
It’s just …… one of those dreams.