In Dreams

She comes to me in dreams. But not usually in outrageously dramatic ways. She’s just usually there, present in person and spirit instead of just the normal spirit. I can see her. My dream-me can reach out and touch her. My parented sons interact with her. The normalcy is almost boring.

But I wake up reaching out for her.

I wonder if the dreams are like this because she is always with me in spirit. I wonder if her presence in my dreams is just a subconscious manifestation of the fact that I always have her in heart and on my mind. I won’t pretend to know much about the subconscious mind or psychology; that’s a job for my therapist!

But I’m always off kilter after a dream in which she appears.

I keep turning my head, expecting to see her sitting on the floor reading a book with my older son. I expect to open the door to the nursery and see her peering over the side rail of the crib. I want to call her to come to the table for lunch. The dreams leave me with this odd, left behind feeling.

At the same time, I love seeing her in my dreams, no matter how grieved I feel the next day. I crave that normalcy, if only for however long a dream lasts. It bridges these gaps in time.