Sunday, 10 March 2013

Dream a little dream of me...

   I had a dream within a dream. Mum was there. She came into my room (which wasn’t my room but such is the nature of dreams). I couldn’t believe it, I asked if it was really her over and over and she just smiled back at me. I tried to remember her jewelry, she wore a necklace with a tiny heart on it. I knew I was dreaming, in my dream... I just hugged her, touched her face and her arms, she had such soft skin. She looked more real that I have seen her in a long time.

   Strange to think that once she was here indefinitely and now I sometimes have trouble picturing her face.

   I don’t remember what was said other than me asking if it was really her and her smiling back. I would like to say she said everything was going to be ok. But if she didn’t verbally, she said it with her eyes. I woke up from that dream - still in another dream - and turned on the TV, as if I knew the continuation of it would be on the TV. And there I was, standing behind a counter serving people food and drink; and there she was, watching me, putting things on shelves away from the counter, facing the real me. I screamed at myself in the TV to look up and see Mum but I was so engrossed (and TV people can’t hear real people anyway). Then something strange happened, Mum called my name, to the me in the cafe with her, and I didn’t hear her. I watched me walk past her and didn’t see her, and she wasn’t upset. She smiled and I got the notion that I would only have been able to see her if I’d have needed her, and at that time I didn’t so I couldn’t. Then in the dream some people walked into my room and I glanced away from the TV for a second, when I looked back and tried to explain what had happened all they could see was a woman in the corner of the screen overlooking the coffee shop scene, to them she could just have been a customer in queue, and I was gone from the picture.

   I had a dream with Mum in it almost a week after she'd died. Mum and I were walking along the street carrying one of our white garden chairs between us. I began to limp a bit and Mum suddenly stopped, put the chair on the ground and sat me in the chair and lifted it, carrying me along on the chair. I protested because surely she wasn’t able to carry me safely but she carried on. I woke up bewildered - how on earth could Mum do that and why was I dreaming about it. I instantly told Sara about it (we’d slept in the same bed) who said maybe it was her telling me that she’s still ‘carrying me’, perhaps more than she had been able to on this earth. And I hoped she was right.

   I think dreams are amazing things. They give me precious moments that maybe never really existed, they show me things that might not be true; yet I remember them as if they do mean something to me, as if they are a part of my life. When Mum comes into my dreams it sometimes feels more real than the world I live in, because in my world Mum is there, and I wish I could dream forever. My memory of this one is already fading, I had to write it down instantly as I woke up as to not forget it completely. But I do remember her face and I do remember her hug and for now, that is enough.

   When I came on Facebook this morning I was reminded it is Mother's Day, which made me all the more glad that I saw Mum last night. Happy Mother's Day to all you special women blessed to have children. You mean more to the world than you think <3


  1. Little things like this are what makes our lives such special things. It's good to remember and be happy :)

  2. God absolutely knew what He was doing when He gave us dreams. I still wonder if dreams have some form of importance and interpretation, even if they aren't divine revelations. Hmmm... :)