I’ve always had very vivid dreams, so detailed and realistic sometimes that I wake up and not realize I was just dreaming, and they can be very intense. Rarely is there a time that I can’t remember bits and pieces of them, or at least recall the essence or the feeling they gave me.
It was a little over a year and a half ago that I lost my Mom. She was my best friend and the love of my life. It was a few days later that I noticed that I hadn’t dreamed since she had died. I wished that I could see her again, and I wanted to dream so badly but I just couldn’t, which seemed so unnatural for me. I assume it was from pure exhaustion. If you have ever gone through anything like that with someone you are so close to, the feelings you experience, even to this day I still can’t describe.
Soon after she passed, my Brother had said to me, “I wish we could have her for just five more minutes.” I agreed, even if we only had a few more seconds to tell her how much we loved her, to thank her for all she did for us, or to hold her tightly one last time.
I remember praying that she would come to me in my dreams. Night, after night. And nothing. It wasn’t until after her funeral that I was able to dream again, just when I was about to begin life as my “new normal”, as they say. I am grateful that my dream was of her, and it was one that I will never forget. She, my Brother and I were outdoors at some sort of campground. The song Time After Time played in the background as Mom walked away for a minute to get something. I pulled my brother in tightly, remembering the feeling of being so grateful and happy, and saying to him, “We get to have her for five more minutes.”
What was so special about this dream, and much like every dream I have of her now, is that I somehow know that she is no longer with us, and it is extra time we have together. I am able to say things that I want to say to her and hold her tight. When I cry to her, I cry hard. When I hug her, I hug her with all my love. My dream has never had a soundtrack before, so when Time After Time played, it was like she was telling me that everything was going to be okay. And when I hear it now, it brings me comfort.
I dream about her quite a bit, I feel like it happens mostly when life is weighing heavy on my heart. I wake up with the best feeling. It’s like a moment of relief, like, Ahhhh I just saw my Mom, and felt her touch. It can be bittersweet once I wake up when I realize I can’t just pop over or call and say “Hi, Mom!” like I used to. But I’ll take it, because it means the world.
Even when I see someone that looks like my Mom, I allow myself to pretend, even if only for a moment, that she is still in the world with me.
Just last week I was picking up a pizza, and in the back of the parlor there was a woman that had her back half turned to me. She was shaped like my Mom, wearing an oversided sweatshirt and had short dark brown hair with glasses on, just like her. After it was ready, I stayed there and just gazed for a minute, pretending that it was really her, and I just thought, “What’s she doing in here? Must be looking for something.” I smiled.
The next day, I was driving and in my rear-view mirror, slightly blurred, there she was again -another woman that could be her twin. She was driving a white SUV and had a small lap dog that kept jumping into the front seat that was distracting her but making her laugh. I thought, “Aww, she looks so happy.” I smiled, again.
A lifetime of love from your Mom doesn’t disappear overnight, a year later, or even five, ten or fifty. She is a part of me that I will miss and need for the rest of my life. So, I try to find my “five more minutes” with her whenever I am able. It’s when I hear a song that takes me back, when her favorite show comes on TV, when I hear something that would make her laugh, when I do or say something exactly the same way she would, when I visit a place we used to go to together, or see a beautiful sky. It brings me comfort, and it brings me peace – it brings me Her.
Song of the Blog:
Time After Time | Cyndi Lauper | 1984
