She came to me in a dream last night. I’ve known many bereaved mothers who have hoped to dream of their children. I think what we want is for our child to appear and let us know everything will be alright- for them and for us- to be reminded of their faces in 3-d, not just flat glossy photos. I’ve had several dreams about my Mabel. They are quick, never lasting long enough. One where she was alive and I was nursing her. One where I traded her in for another baby. And then last night.
We were in the hospital, the NICU, and I could take her home. My younger sister was in a wheelchair with her in her arms, both of them being wheeled towards the exit. I put my face down close to Mabel’s and she smiled and reached out to grab at my hair. I smiled because I could take her home. We were going home, all together, as a family.
This might be the kind of dream others like me hope for. I could read into it and claim all sorts of messages. But truth is, I didn’t like dreaming of her. This one was a good one; I was happy! So very happy I could take her home. But then I woke up to reality- that life where she did not ever meet my sister, where she didn’t smile or reach out, where I did not take her home.
These dreams just leave me sad. The only interpretation I can give is that my dreams play out my anxieties and my emotions throughout the night- sometimes they are fantasy, sometimes reality based. I dreamed I got to take her home, because that’s what I think about all day- I wish I could have taken her home.