I wish my dreams could last forever
Today has been one of the hardest days I’ve had in a long time.
Last night, my boyfriend showed up in my dream. It was so strange because I KNEW it wasn’t real, and we acknowledged the fact that he died, but it was like he just came to visit. Seeing his face, hearing his voice and feeling his touch on my skin … it was so hard to wake up knowing that it would be over.
My dream was unsubstantial to start out with. Next thing I knew I was in a kitchen of what looked like a camper or trailer. My boyfriend just suddenly appeared and I remember feeling my heart skip a beat. We smiled and hugged and I made him bacon, like any good girlfriend would do. We just sat and talked for God knows how long. Time stood still in that dream and I had no concept of it whatsoever. It could have been hours, it could have been minutes. It didn’t matter how long it was, it just made me so happy to hear his voice.
Next thing I knew we were laying in my bed with our favorite sheets and pillows. I could feel his warmth around me, and it was so comforting. He wanted to get up and go to the bathroom, but I told him no. I was so worried that if he left, he wouldn’t come back. I just wanted to hold on to whatever brief moments with him I had.
I woke up after this and started crying. Thank God for my dog. Bless her heart she came into my room from the kitchen because she could hear my soft whimpers, got into bed with me and licked my face. Rarely do I have a continuation of my dreams when I’m awake for substantial periods of time, but last night was an exception.
Flash forward to us in a movie theater, which makes sense because he loved movies. It looked like the Fox Theater in Detroit almost, that old, elegant style. Our chairs were more like a pullout couch and we cuddled up with our glasses of wine. I don’t know what movie was playing, if any at all. It didn’t matter. The entire dream I kept thinking in the back of my head that I wanted to ask him why he did what he did, but I knew I wouldn’t get an answer. I think subconsciously I knew it was a dream so he would give whatever answer I envisioned, but I still wanted to ask. I finally mustered up the courage as we lay in the movie theater.
“Why Babe? Why did you do it?” I asked.
He looked at me with those eyes, those beautiful blue eyes, and just said, “I was really fucked up. I’m so sorry I did this to us and everything we had.”
I lost it. I started crying and he just held me. It was then that he told me he needed to go, and as much as I knew I wouldn’t see him again, I let him go. I watched him walk out of the movie theater and then I woke up, tears streaming down my face.
All day I’ve been in a funk, reliving my dream over and over again, grasping on to any detail I can retain.
Someone once told me it might be better not to look at my dreams as merely a figment of my imagination, nor as an actual visit from his spirit, but rather an experience. And I will leave it at that – an experience.