Dream a Little Dream..
The mind is an enigma. It is known to exaggerate details and suppress the unpleasant. Whether a memory, knowledge or simply a feeling the mind is likened to a gigantic file cabinet, one which chemotherapy can have long term effects (chemo-brain). This post is not about chemo brain. At least I don’t think it is. We’ll see where it goes.
Last night I had a dream. Now to be clear I am an Ambien taker and have been for over six years, ever since cancer. I tend not to dream because of it or at least not recall any dreams I might have. A few years back I tried to switch to Restoril and it caused huge, scary, night terrors. Needless to say I happily went back to my low dose Ambien without complaint. As I was saying I rarely remember dreams due to the fact that I take a sleeper. I go to sleep then wake up and there doesn't seem to be much memory of what goes on in-between. But last night, as I said, I had a dream and I remembered it in vivid detail.
As many of you know, I lost a dear friend to anal cancer just after Thanksgiving. Diagnosed just six months apart we met as part of the Anal Cancer Foundation’s peer-to-peer program about 3 years ago. We were “soul sisters” from the start. Our ages, families, and cancer progression were about the same. We both ignored symptoms for months prior to diagnosis. We talked. A lot. We loved and encouraged each other. I went to visit her once. We met in Houston once to see the doctor together. I loved her very much. I responded to treatment when my cancer recurred. She didn't. I have had 3 years worth of clean scans now and she has had 3 years full of failed after failed treatment. I have a stomach ache just thinking of it and the pain her family is experiencing this holiday season with the loss of her presence so raw and new. I wept in my husband’s arms after her husband called the morning of her passing. I knew it was coming but it was still a shocking blow to my heart. My “souliest” of soul sisters was gone. My heart felt the immediate void. I had company though. My parents, my children, relatives were all at my home. I pushed grief aside and forged on putting up Christmas trees and decorations. I thought I was coping. I thought I was handling it as well as, maybe even better than, expected. But as I said, the mind is an enigma. Call it suppressed emotion, survivor’s guilt, or a “visitation” of sorts, last night I dreamt of her. My dream, as I remember, went like this:
I was driving my car on a four lane street and all of the sudden my lane dissolved into grass and I lost control of my car nearly flipping it before I came to a stop in front of a house. I went in and there sat my friend in a wheel chair in front of a fireplace. She told me hello in that sweet southern accent she had. I felt slightly surprised to see her but I had to use the restroom...naturally. While I was in the restroom I found some really nice, clearly never used, hand towels which I decided to take because I reasoned that she would never use them because she had passed away. Then it dawns on me ‘she had passed away’! What was she doing here?! I snatched up a pair of white slippers and hurried back to the living room. She was still there, in the wheel chair, in front of the tall white brick fireplace. She turned toward me and spoke but her speech was heavy. She told me how nice it was that I brought her the slippers saying “You didn’t have to do that.” I could hear her voice perfectly. I stooped to put the slippers on her feet thinking this was crazy and imagined she was probably a spirit and spirits don’t need slippers. When I slipped the first one on it began to glow a little and when I looked up at her she had all white hair and it was long. She smiled at me and said “It’s all okay soul sister. I’m okay and you’re going to be all right.”
When my eyes open from sleep. I don’t think of my dream. I don’t even know I had one. My husband quietly enters the bedroom and I say good morning in hushed tones. He replies with the same and enters the bathroom. I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed and click the light on. Total recall of the dream floods my mind. I shake my head a little to clear the cob webs a bit but the dream remains a clear memory. I can’t shake it. I’m a little teary eyed as I take my shower. I miss my friend. I miss her every time I think of telling her something in my life. We shared such a similar gratitude for the small things in life and such a hope for tomorrow. I used to always remind her that “We’re all one hundred percent alive right now!” every time we spoke on the phone. By the time I enter my kitchen I am ready to tell my husband about my dream. He acknowledged my grief and how painful it must have felt to see and hear her. I think about that for while as I prepare to leave for work. True, I felt grief now thinking about it because I miss her and long to hear her voice. In the dream I was just soaking it all in. As I drove to work I began to think how nice it was to hear that southern drawl and see her beautiful face. I thought I would never hear her or see her again. I suppose in some respects a person is never truly gone. They are alive in our hearts and minds. I always thought that was so cliche. You know, things people say to make you feel better after losing someone so close.
The longer I think about it the more it makes me happy. I saw her again even though it was just a fleeting dream. What more can anyone ask when life and death are not in one’s control? I hope someday when I have left this world that someone, somewhere will dream a little dream of me.
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And this is what we do for those we loved here who are gone, and others who will leave – remember them, help them stay here with us. And hope that others will do that for us someday, so that we have a chain of memory to hold back that final darkness.
I am sure that Tammie will live forever in your heart.
I love it!
Bless~
To you it was a dream. To me, I would call it a visit. I don't take any sleeping assists, and I think ambien, has some effects on the brain, know for people even sleep walking.
3 times, I have had experiences like this, with the 3 parent like people in my life.
1 time, I was called out of sleep by her (no phone call, just thought) to assist her, to pass (death).
2 times, I was at work and left because I just knew my mother was in trouble. I found her both times in dire trouble. Then finally, assisted her as well to passing.
1 time, after my father died, he came to me while sleeping(?), with a message, and I got up and showed him what projects I had been working on.
I have treasured these appearances, and used them in my life to grow and change.
I would hope that you might try sleep without the ambien, and see if you can try to sleep normally, just once. See what happens.
It's comforting to know they are here with us.
Love Jean