She came to me in a dream

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.


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