Monday, April 21, 2008
Dreaming Him Home
I dreamed of Joe-Gi last night. Finally. Gratefully. I have only gotten to dream of him about four times since his death for whatever reason, and most of those were nightmares that brought back the trauma of his illness and our attempts to save him.
Last night I grew so emotionally weary. There was no reason for it. Nick and Alex were camping with thier dad and we had an entire weekend to devote to ourselves and our house. We worked really hard, went on a luxurious picnic on Saturday and did the traditional romantic cuddling on a blanket with a pirated in bottle of good Chardonnay parked between us. It was a fantastic weekend and I have been happy. Content. So I don't know what triggered me last night. It would seem that nothing did. I just started to miss him. His laugh. His face. His gentle mannerisms. I was having a terrible backache and went to take a bath to help soothe it, and I curled down in the warmth and thought about him and wept. The yearning I feel for him is so overpowering. I miss him desperately.
As I fell asleep two nights ago, I sent a little prayer to Joseph tell him I love him and miss him and asking him to come visit me in my dreams and to send me signs that he is all right now. Yesterday, in checking a favorite website of mine that posts cute and funny pictures of dogs with captioning added by readers, the above picture had been posted. Perhaps that was my trigger. It reminds me so much of Joseph, of his own playful spirit, of the dog, Stretch, that he wanted to adopt when he got well enough.
During the night last night, I dreamed that I was sleeping, oddly enough. I dreamed I got up and out of bed and there was a large, huge dog sitting outside a screen door that had been added into the wall of my bedroom. Joe was not there. As I turned to get back into bed, I drew back the sheet and beneath it was Joseph, laying on his back. I was frightened immediately, as he looked dead, like the bodies on TV before they pull the sheet over them. But then he opened his eyes and I started to apologize, appalled at myself that he had been in bed with me all that time and I had not noticed. I don't remember the exact details, though I am scrambling now to recover them from my foggy mind. He was happy and healthy, though he was bald. He was so loving and kept hugging me and the only thing he would say was "Love Momma", a phrase from a little game we would play when he was smaller. I took him to my old office for some reason and he wandered the office. Then I was back in my bedroom and he said he needed to go back to sleep...or maybe he just climbed into bed and I knew that is what he needed. There was a window above the bed and sitting outside on a ledge in front of the window, facing inward, was a religious statue of, I believe, Jesus...again...foggy. It had seemed eerie at the time. When I turned back, Joseph was sleeping hard and I felt heavy and sad again. I knew he was going away. The big dog returned outside the screen door, tongue lolling, dappled gray, black, white...a huge mutt. Now it had a very small dog with it. I went to the door and the dog bent down on his forepaws as if he wanted to play. I slapped my thighs and both dogs joyfully took off running hard, away and across the fields, smiling a wide doggie smile, legs churning madly. I closed the door gently and got back into bed, and Joseph was gone again. And in my dream, I went back to sleep.
Are they two signs from Joe-Gi that he is happy now? I certainly felt him near. I could feel his skin when I hugged him. I could smell him and hear his voice so plainly, could see his every facial expression. I can take a lot of comfort in imagining he is happy now.