It is not that often and it is very random, but over the course of the past 14 months, my husband has appeared to me in my sleep. I have to admit that there have been times that I wished so badly to see him and there have been times when I had thought about him so much on a particular day that I felt that my mind would incorporate him somehow in my dreams. However, all the wishes nor the thoughts ever produced an appearance.
I have chosen the word appearance purposely because there have been three ways in which my husband has appeared to me. One is in a dream. In all of the dreams that I have had, I am fully aware that he has died, but in the dream the death didn't really happen. In most cases, it was faked for one reason or another and I am always relieved that it's not true and angry that I was put in such agony in grieving. The second appearance I call a visit. These just feel different than a dream. I haven't had too many of these, but the feeling that I have both during and after the visit makes me feel like he came to me, to see me, to visit. The third of these appearances are also a visit, however, it's me that has gone to see him. During my visits, I am again aware that he is dead, but I am also very aware of time and that there is not much of it. I have only had one these, until today. Until today, there has never been any verbal communication between the two of us. I have spoken to him, but he has never spoken back to me, until today.
I wasn't planning on taking a nap today, but for some atypical reason my son couldn't fall asleep on his own so I joined him, he in his crib and me on the bed in his room. I remember when I first started to waken, how I was on my stomach, forehead in the pillow, body straight and stiff. When I fully awoke I rolled over to a more comfortable side position and from somewhere a tear rolled down my cheek. That's when I started to remember all that happened while I slept. As I recalled the bits and pieces, it started to make me cry. However, the lines and creases that my face makes when I cry felt too familiar. My eyes felt as if they had already been wet. I noticed that they felt heavy too and then I finally realized that I had a headache as well. I know what it fells like to cry a little and a lot. When I woke up, I cried just a bit. It wasn't enough to make my body feel the aches of crying a lot, which is how I felt. I laid there for about thirty minutes trying to recall as much as I could and trying to make sense of everything. The physical state that I was in fit cohesively with what happened in my sleep. I remember what I feel are just bits and pieces of my visit. I do not recall how it began or even how it ended and I am uncertain of the sequence as well, but this is what I do remember...
It was summer and I was standing on the ground, below a house, which reminded of the homes in the Outer Banks, where they are raised to avoid the water and flooding. I feel as if this house was ours and I could see my husband, he was wearing a red polo and jeans and I feel as if there was an older lady talking to us, but more so to my husband as I didn't recognize her or recall any details about her. There were flowers and gardens around the house and that's what my husband was working on. Our son was also in the dream, here and there. He was interacting with his father, playing and laughing, nothing out of the ordinary. I remember being now in the back yard which reminded me more of an English garden with brick pathways and lots of shade from the trees. The tress couldn't keep all of the sun out as its rays found their way in. I remember sobbing. Terribly. I remember my husband noticing and looking concerned. Then I remember sitting on chairs together in the garden and looking at his face. I remember reaching out to touch it. I remember the heartache I felt because I knew that I was in a moment with him, just a moment. I knew it wasn't going to last, but he didn't. I don't recall my exact words, but I remember telling him that he's not in our future. He didn't believe me and stood up and began to walk away. I got up and followed him. He knew the how, but didn't know it happened. He turned to me and said, "You know how to stop it," as if we had time traveled to the past and could redo things. My reply was, "I didn't know." Whether it was the past tense that I used or the look on my face, but he understood. We held each other and cried. I remember asking him if there was anything that he wanted to tell us, anything that we should know. Our son was with us again and standing close enough to his father so that his hand was on his head and he could touch his face, although I didn't see my son's face throughout this entire visit. He said that he was so happy to be our son's father for the short period of time that he had with him. He also said that he wanted our son to have a happy family. When he said this, it was as if I could feel these words and their genuinity. A small picture frame appeared as he said these words, near our knees and I don't know where it appeared from, but in this picture was me, my son, and other man that I didn't see, but I knew that it wasn't my husband. I don't know if this was the true end to the visit or how we said goodbye if we did because that's all that I remember.
My dream did continue on because what I remember next was that my son and I were on the roof of our house. I am not sure if it was the same house as in the first part, but being on the roof made me feel as if we were home, in NYC. However, this rooftop was bizarre. There was a fence on two sides of the house to prevent anyone from falling off. However, the third side of the house had a hill that allowed people to walk from the ground level to the rooftop. And there were people walking up. I remember and older lady with a young girl walking up. I recall wondering why people where walking up to my roof and then I wondered why the lady didn't bring the girl over to my son's swing. There were tarred paths on the roof and the roof was made up mainly of flower gardens and it was very shady as this roof reached up to the thickest part of the treetops. The fourth side of the house, well... I don't know if there was one because it seemed to go on forever as if my rooftop was a park and my home like a hobbit's. I remember feeling the need to walk to the far end with my son and I want to say to catch a bus. However, I do not recall ever walking out there with him and that's all that I remember from that part of my dream.
A visit, a dream, call it what you will, but it stuck with me all day. I am sure it's lasting effect will keep me company tomorrow as well. My head and my eyes felt awful for the rest of the day. I cried hard and for long periods in my dream, but I must have been in real time as well. I didn't wake my son, atleast I don't think I did, but those physical effects were not imagined. At first, it was nice for me to see him again as I don't have these dreams and visits as often as I would like. However, thinking about what I had to tell him and some other things are making me try to avoid analyzing my dream and just taking it for what it was and most importantly what he said to me. His words, the first spoken to me, about our son. Twenty months... that's all the time they had with one another. Those moments truly were precious just as the moments in this visit were precious for me.
I have chosen the word appearance purposely because there have been three ways in which my husband has appeared to me. One is in a dream. In all of the dreams that I have had, I am fully aware that he has died, but in the dream the death didn't really happen. In most cases, it was faked for one reason or another and I am always relieved that it's not true and angry that I was put in such agony in grieving. The second appearance I call a visit. These just feel different than a dream. I haven't had too many of these, but the feeling that I have both during and after the visit makes me feel like he came to me, to see me, to visit. The third of these appearances are also a visit, however, it's me that has gone to see him. During my visits, I am again aware that he is dead, but I am also very aware of time and that there is not much of it. I have only had one these, until today. Until today, there has never been any verbal communication between the two of us. I have spoken to him, but he has never spoken back to me, until today.
I wasn't planning on taking a nap today, but for some atypical reason my son couldn't fall asleep on his own so I joined him, he in his crib and me on the bed in his room. I remember when I first started to waken, how I was on my stomach, forehead in the pillow, body straight and stiff. When I fully awoke I rolled over to a more comfortable side position and from somewhere a tear rolled down my cheek. That's when I started to remember all that happened while I slept. As I recalled the bits and pieces, it started to make me cry. However, the lines and creases that my face makes when I cry felt too familiar. My eyes felt as if they had already been wet. I noticed that they felt heavy too and then I finally realized that I had a headache as well. I know what it fells like to cry a little and a lot. When I woke up, I cried just a bit. It wasn't enough to make my body feel the aches of crying a lot, which is how I felt. I laid there for about thirty minutes trying to recall as much as I could and trying to make sense of everything. The physical state that I was in fit cohesively with what happened in my sleep. I remember what I feel are just bits and pieces of my visit. I do not recall how it began or even how it ended and I am uncertain of the sequence as well, but this is what I do remember...
It was summer and I was standing on the ground, below a house, which reminded of the homes in the Outer Banks, where they are raised to avoid the water and flooding. I feel as if this house was ours and I could see my husband, he was wearing a red polo and jeans and I feel as if there was an older lady talking to us, but more so to my husband as I didn't recognize her or recall any details about her. There were flowers and gardens around the house and that's what my husband was working on. Our son was also in the dream, here and there. He was interacting with his father, playing and laughing, nothing out of the ordinary. I remember being now in the back yard which reminded me more of an English garden with brick pathways and lots of shade from the trees. The tress couldn't keep all of the sun out as its rays found their way in. I remember sobbing. Terribly. I remember my husband noticing and looking concerned. Then I remember sitting on chairs together in the garden and looking at his face. I remember reaching out to touch it. I remember the heartache I felt because I knew that I was in a moment with him, just a moment. I knew it wasn't going to last, but he didn't. I don't recall my exact words, but I remember telling him that he's not in our future. He didn't believe me and stood up and began to walk away. I got up and followed him. He knew the how, but didn't know it happened. He turned to me and said, "You know how to stop it," as if we had time traveled to the past and could redo things. My reply was, "I didn't know." Whether it was the past tense that I used or the look on my face, but he understood. We held each other and cried. I remember asking him if there was anything that he wanted to tell us, anything that we should know. Our son was with us again and standing close enough to his father so that his hand was on his head and he could touch his face, although I didn't see my son's face throughout this entire visit. He said that he was so happy to be our son's father for the short period of time that he had with him. He also said that he wanted our son to have a happy family. When he said this, it was as if I could feel these words and their genuinity. A small picture frame appeared as he said these words, near our knees and I don't know where it appeared from, but in this picture was me, my son, and other man that I didn't see, but I knew that it wasn't my husband. I don't know if this was the true end to the visit or how we said goodbye if we did because that's all that I remember.
My dream did continue on because what I remember next was that my son and I were on the roof of our house. I am not sure if it was the same house as in the first part, but being on the roof made me feel as if we were home, in NYC. However, this rooftop was bizarre. There was a fence on two sides of the house to prevent anyone from falling off. However, the third side of the house had a hill that allowed people to walk from the ground level to the rooftop. And there were people walking up. I remember and older lady with a young girl walking up. I recall wondering why people where walking up to my roof and then I wondered why the lady didn't bring the girl over to my son's swing. There were tarred paths on the roof and the roof was made up mainly of flower gardens and it was very shady as this roof reached up to the thickest part of the treetops. The fourth side of the house, well... I don't know if there was one because it seemed to go on forever as if my rooftop was a park and my home like a hobbit's. I remember feeling the need to walk to the far end with my son and I want to say to catch a bus. However, I do not recall ever walking out there with him and that's all that I remember from that part of my dream.
A visit, a dream, call it what you will, but it stuck with me all day. I am sure it's lasting effect will keep me company tomorrow as well. My head and my eyes felt awful for the rest of the day. I cried hard and for long periods in my dream, but I must have been in real time as well. I didn't wake my son, atleast I don't think I did, but those physical effects were not imagined. At first, it was nice for me to see him again as I don't have these dreams and visits as often as I would like. However, thinking about what I had to tell him and some other things are making me try to avoid analyzing my dream and just taking it for what it was and most importantly what he said to me. His words, the first spoken to me, about our son. Twenty months... that's all the time they had with one another. Those moments truly were precious just as the moments in this visit were precious for me.
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