I had the most comforting dream of Aaron last night, and I need to write about it before I forget.
(background: it’s been a tough week. Wednesday I had my first “I have to call Aaron and tell him…” in a few months. It hit me like a ton of bricks–again–the reminder that he is in fact, unreachable by phone. That night was my 1st support group meeting in a month, and a lot of painful memories were stirred, as we spoke of regret and guilt. I went home and cried myself to sleep. In the moments before falling asleep, I had one of my nightly conversations with my deceased husband, asking him to show himself to me in a dream or give me some sort of sign).
Yesterday I woke up feeling exhausted. The bags and dark circles under my eyes betrayed the fact that I had cried myself to sleep the night before and slept like crap, to boot. All day I felt numb, counting my blessings that clients weren’t showing up so that I could sit at my desk and stare off into the computer screen.
I got home from work and my plans for frozen yogurt with my best friend and god-daughter got a raincheck, so I put on a long-sleeve comfy t-shirt and jeans, watched the end of the Dodger game (woo hoo! Way to come back for a win in the bottom of the 9th with two outs, boys!), and spaced out on some more mind-numbing TV.
After dinner and a glass of wine, I decided that I was going to take a sleeping pill and crash out early. I curled up under the covers, grabbed a book I bought a few months ago, and started reading. As my eye lids started to get heavy, I closed the book, turned off the light and laid on my side. It was then that I could feel him there with me, spooning me. It was so warm and comforting to feel him there with me, because its been so long since I have had that sense of his presence in the room. I fell asleep, and then that’s when the dream occurred.
We were in a new house, the walls were brown like the wood paneling like the spare room in our old place. Aaron was there, lying down, pale and skinny like he was right before he passed. However, this was not a “before Aaron died” feeling. He was lying there, telling us (there was somebody else in the room, although I’m not sure who it was) about Heaven and the gift he had to come back and be with us again. I don’t remember all of the details of the conversation, but what stood out to me was watching him become reanimated (for lack of a better phrase).
As the dream went on, I remember trying to get up to get him something, and looked down and my foot had no bones in it. It forced me to sit still and just be with him, something I always struggled with before he passed because there was always something to do–clean, study, write a paper, take care of dinner, dishes, the trash, the dog…I sat there with my husband (!) and just was there. He told me he understood my decisions I have been making for the last seven months and was not angry with me.
Then I woke up, with the warmest feeling of peace in my heart. It was like he had heard me in my desperate cries the night before and came to help me get through this next phase of my grief process. Just knowing that I’m doing ok in his eyes, where ever they may be spying on me from, will help me deal with whatever comes my way next.
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