Therapy Homework – Dreams

Went to therapy today and discussed these stupid dreams I’ve been having lately. My homework was to make a point before bed to sit and write to my mom, and also say what I want the dreams to be like. So, here’s letter one:

Last night you came to me in a dream. Or, you were resurrected in my dream, only to later die. Please don’t do that again. I want my dreams of you to be happy and fun memories, rather than ones that remind me of the day I lost you.

Losing you was the hardest thing I’ve ever gone through in my life. I originally described it as a baseball bat to the chest any time I had to explain the experience. I would lay on the floor and just let the pain hit me with every sobbed breathe I drew. It was like that for a year. Thinking of how I’ll never see you again, just kills me. It’s genuinely impossible for me to imagine that life (even though I’m living it).

But, I know that you love me and don’t want to make me hurt. So, if I’m going to dream about you again tonight, can it please be a happy, baseball bat-free one?

Maybe we can curl up on the couch, like we would have done that Christmas, and watch a dumb cop show? My Hulu account still recommends all sorts of NCIS-esque things to me, but I never watched them on my own. Who was the guy you liked so much again? Gibbs? Maybe in the middle of watching the show we look out the windows and see Gibbs standing on the porch, talking about local crime, and then gives us flowers because that’s so out of character that it would be funny.

Waking up from that dream would make my day. I’ll always miss you, but being able to replay the parts I miss… that would be nice. I want my memories of you to always be good, not terrifying (in the dreams).

So, if you show up tonight, let’s have fun.

I love you, mom. I always will.

Salt-free dreams.

Soon after my mom died and I returned to work, a friend shared with me his own loss of his father. “Wait until the dreams start,” he mentioned to me while we were telling our stories of grief.

The dreams have started.

Last night, she was alive. She was on the phone withe me, coordinating plans to where we would meet up. Then, I was lost in some damn woods on my way down to see her. While I was lost in the woods (days long, navigating with my car), I got a call that she had died again. Then I was assaulted by some nefarious characters. Then I had to go tell everyone how she was dead.

I woke up crying. I’ve been crying on and off all day.

Missing my mom has been a heavy weight that I keep with me at all times. I once heard a comic say that losing your mother is like living in a world without salt. Sure, you know how the dish tastes and you can appreciate what you ordered, but really it all is just not what it could be. That the rest of your life is kind of like that.

Today, I feel the lack of salt.