Please Lord, no more dreams.
I have always had a very active dream life (as in when I’m asleep). This can be quite an asset to those of us who struggle socially; “Oh my goodness, you will never believe the dream I had last night…”. It can be a great conversation starter. On the other hand, it can also be rather detrimental to ones health. Nightmares and troubling dreams can leave a person paranoid and upset – and even fearful of sleep.
In the months prior to Matt’s accident I was having a particularly hard time at night. I was having nightmares nearly every time I slept, and often woke up tired – even after 8 hours of sleep.
After the accident, God really blessed me with peaceful sleep. I was emotionally and physically wrecked and thankfully slept soundly most nights for many hours. Knowing how awful nights could have been I am so thankful that God has spared me the pain of having to battle with this tragedy during the night.
The dreams are starting to come now.
Sometimes they are bad dreams, sometimes they are good.
The good dreams are nearly worse than the bad ones though. When I dream that Matt is alive and everything is ok, I inevitably wake up to this horrible reality and mourn the loss of my beautiful husband and the life we did not get to share together.
Sometimes the dreams are more foggy and when I wake I can’t really remember them, but I am always aware of Matt’s presence, or lack-of it, in them.
One dream that I had a couple of nights ago is still haunting me and is ever-present in my mind. I dreamt that Matthew was alive, but that he was dying from some sort of disease. We were at a ‘farewell’ for him…it was like his funeral but he was there standing next to me as I gave a speech. We could’t keep our hands off each other. I just kept kissing him and telling him how much I love him. We cried together and begged God to heal him. We knew that he was going to die, so we made a baby, and suddenly I had her in my arms (time seems to be irrelevant in dreams!). We cried some more and named her Jill – I have no idea why. I was hysterical. I didn’t want him to go. I didn’t want him to leave. We just kept kissing like it was our last.
I woke up in a cold sweat before he died (thankfully), but it has left me feeling dreadful.
I often wonder if it would have been easier or harder for me if he had not died so suddenly; if were given a chance to say ‘goodbye’ – if we were more prepared for it. I don’t know, and I guess it’s probably not very helpful to dwell on it as there is nothing I can do to change it anyway.
We were not prepared. We were not able to kiss and say goodbye.
So if you are a pray-er, I’d love for you to join with me in asking God to protect me from these dreams and nightmares.
(if my dreams were made of Lego…)