The Dream
Last night I had a dream.
He was in it.
I mean, he was really really there. Here. There.
I think it was the first dream I have had about him since he hung himself.
Is that awful?
I think my brain has not allowed it. My brain built a wall around him. Around all the good feelings and bad feelings and the things I remember about him. My brain makes it hard for me to remember him.
It's a defense. It's a protection. It's a survival mechanism.
It is frustrating. It is also a relief.
The wall came down last night, in my dream.
He was here. He was there. He was wanting to be here.
He arrived unannounced, walking through a door (a wall), as if I must have been expecting him to show up at some point.
And he said he wanted to stay.
He said he wanted to stay.
He walked around with me, and I had to explain to people how my dead husband was back, and I had to treat him kindly, because I understood what great lengths he went through to come back from the dead just to be with me again.
He said he wanted to be with me again.
He said he wanted people to know we were together.
He was really here. There. Here.
I saw his arms.
I saw his hands.
He was wearing the same silly shirt he always wore.
He wasn't happy, he was just calm. He was just here. There. Here.
And now I will cry for hours today, because the wall came down last night, and he was here.
He is here.
He was in it.
I mean, he was really really there. Here. There.
I think it was the first dream I have had about him since he hung himself.
Is that awful?
I think my brain has not allowed it. My brain built a wall around him. Around all the good feelings and bad feelings and the things I remember about him. My brain makes it hard for me to remember him.
It's a defense. It's a protection. It's a survival mechanism.
It is frustrating. It is also a relief.
The wall came down last night, in my dream.
He was here. He was there. He was wanting to be here.
He arrived unannounced, walking through a door (a wall), as if I must have been expecting him to show up at some point.
And he said he wanted to stay.
He said he wanted to stay.
He walked around with me, and I had to explain to people how my dead husband was back, and I had to treat him kindly, because I understood what great lengths he went through to come back from the dead just to be with me again.
He said he wanted to be with me again.
He said he wanted people to know we were together.
He was really here. There. Here.
I saw his arms.
I saw his hands.
He was wearing the same silly shirt he always wore.
He wasn't happy, he was just calm. He was just here. There. Here.
And now I will cry for hours today, because the wall came down last night, and he was here.
He is here.
Yes, he is. Always has, probably, but hasn’t figured out how to access you until now, via your dreams. He hasn’t moved on b/c he is troubled. He still needs help in that way, but don’t take that on yourself. Thank you for indulging him in that dream-fantasy of normalcy. He needed that.
ReplyDeleteBut the experience teaches you (you are still learning, too, and need help in your way) that your grip on him is still very strong. That is not wrong. You promised to do that on your wedding day.
Compassion. Forgiveness. That is the lesson you two need now. Compassion to realize that what he did was not personal to you. It was his own suffering that he was reacting to, though it created suffering in the rest of you. Forgiveness for yourselves and toward each other.
There is a place in your mind/psyche/spirit (to give you a peek behind the curtain) where/when you will see him again (may happen more times before you get to this place) and feel solid, rooted to the earth (where you are right now), and aware of your emotions toward him and what happened, but not so hurt and overwhelmed. And you will understand that he is where he is because of his choices and actions, and that’s OK—it’s where he is right now.
When that encounter happens, when you can convey to him how you feel without fear and anger and pain, but instead with compassion and forgiveness and love, he will be able to move on, and you will be at peace.
(English isn't my native language, bear with me, I'm from Denmark)
ReplyDeleteHe is here, he is part of your baggage, he is part of you. You have life experience in your backpack, it's good and bad, your late husband was loved, he will always be there, and always take a lot of room, and it is good.
Go live, and more will be added. Your backpack will never run out of room, and will never be to heavy to carry, as long as you acknowledge and cherish the content, good and bad, because it is your life, it is you, and you are great.