I'm at the mall with my Mom and she is incredibly angry at me, she yells and her voice is scratchy from the weakness in her vocal cords. She is completely irate and incomprehensible. I find myself slinging horrible vicious insults at her, our anger shimmers between us in an almost visible wall... almost. I wake with a start... I'm asleep next to Paul and my Mom is gone... Unbearably gone...
I've had these soul aching dreams often since my Mom has passed. Those who were close to us know we fought terribly when I was a teenager. We made our peace before she passed but apparently my sub-conscious didn't get that memo. You always hear about people getting visits from their loved ones, loving embraces stolen in the most vivid moments of their dreams. All I seem to have harvested is anger. In my most stressful moments I recall my Mom's cold fingers, never enough circulation to warm them, and so oddly soothing as she stroked my hair. In a flash my mind transposes the image of her cold hands resting that final time in the hospital, never to rouse again... Why can't I dream of the hours of precious time we spent in those last few years?
Since first sharing here about my Mom in the beginning of this blog I have not had any of these dreams. Is it completely twisted that I miss her even more? The volatile visits were at least a chance to see her, and what is left without those images is an unmistakeable void...
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1 comment:
That dream was deep. Makes me almost want to call my momma and get things right before it's too late.
Notice, I said, almost ;)
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