March 14, 2008
March 12, 2008
The opposite of nightmares
I've had several dreams now about my mother, each more vivid than the last. In my dream, she is alive and well. Various different family members have gathered and we are discussing something. Invariably, we begin to talk about my mother's death. Rather, we talk about how my mother hasn't died. We joke about how that last time we really thought she was a goner but somehow she managed to cheat death for a third time. We laugh and smile and talk about how lucky we are to still have her. Then a seed of doubt begins to grow in my dream. I say to myself, "I remember her in the casket. She was cold." And that seed grows into a tree until I awake empty handed, wishing for death or sweet oblivion, anything to not have to wake up to the cold realization that what I want so desperately to be true is but a dream.
