Two nights ago, I woke up from a dream, crying. Not just tears but sobs, and for the life of me, I can’t remember that dream. But what would make me cry so much in a dream? What dream world would curdle my blood and break my heart so that I sobbed in my sleep?
I frequently dream, Gentle Reader, and often, I remember fragments of my dreams. Sometimes, when stressed, I dream of apocalypses, trying to protect my students and get them to safety during a Zombie outbreak, or other end of the world scenarios. Sometimes, I dream of school, of teaching, or of brilliant novel plotlines I never remember come morning.
But since my mother died, it’s been harder and harder to remember my dreams about her, except this: in my dreams, when I see her, I yell at her, “You’re DEAD! You can’t BE here!” in whatever situation we’re in. Somehow, she’s come back to life and it’s left to me to tell everyone else the truth.
These are not good dreams. I’ve spoken of them before on this blog, but this last sobbing episode makes me wonder if I didn’t have one of those dreams. They hurt, Reader. To the bone.