Posted in Family, Life, Writing

Dreams are strange and wonderful things


A few months after my Mom died, I began this whole series of dreams where she came back from the dead and doctors couldn’t figure out how. The cancer was in a weird stasis, not actually gone, and she was totally healed, for all intended purposes. She had “unfinished business” that needed to be completed, according to God.

I barely spent time with her in these dreams. Once in a while, we would do things together that was such a wonderful experience.

Right after the first year anniversary of her death, I began to dream of her dying, again. The cancer came back, just like before. It was scary but this time, we put her in a hospice–more like a castle, actually.

I don’t recall everything but it was so difficult emotionally, despite it being a dream, for me.

All throughout the dream, I kept worrying about her dying again and burying her again. I knew she wasn’t meant to stay.

Looking back, hindsight being 20-20, the dream was a way for me to let go and say goodbye the way I wanted to my Mom. I got to spend all the time I needed and do all those fun activities that I wanted to do with her, just my Mom and me.

Eventually, about a year when the dream began, we buried her in the exact place she was buried before.

Well, last night, I had another one of those ending dreams where she was sick and died, and we buried her again. It was very emotional. Oddly, I didn’t wake up upset. I awoke content. It was very strange.

I am at work now, lovely Readership. Please feel free to post comments on this post or use the contact me page. I hope you have a lovely day.

Humbly yours,



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