The Power of Dreams
When I think of my mind, I imagine it to be a huge filing cabinet. When I'm thinking about something, I literally imagine a part of myself walking up and down these huge halls pulling out files, scanning them fo relevance, and then either taking them to look at further, or putting them back and continuing the search.
When I was small, one of the "myths" that went around school was that a person could control what they dreamed about by thinking about one thing straight until they fall asleep.
I cannot tell you how many times in my life I have tested this theory.
When my grandma died, I mentally returned to her house and tried to summon every image, smell, texture and memory I had of her.
True to form, more often than not, she appeared in some form or fashion in my dreams.
When I got divorced, the same was true. Not wanting to focus on the negative, I tried to recall the good times, the times before the tears and angry words.
Some times it worked, but more often than not, it didn't.
In hindsight, I think the wounds were too fresh, the emotions too raw and the proximity to the situation, stiffling.
This week I have tried to test this myth yet again.
Even though on a rational level I know my dog is gone, it really feels like he's just been away at the vet, or staying with a neighbor.
My heart hasn't really been able to accept what my mind has known all along.
What if I could feel my dog in my arms just one more time, in my dreams, and let him go?
It took me a week, but it finally worked.
And last night, he was there, healthy and happy, wriggling in my arms.
In my dreams, I talk to myself a lot. And I remember thinking, "he's here! In my arms! Warm and safe."
The mind is an amazing thing. When I trip in my dreams, I imagine I jerk in real life in response to an object that doesn't exist, but that I'm sure is out to hurt me.
When I fall in my dreams, I can feel myself falling through space, clawing for something solid to break my fall.
I have woken up crying before because in my dreams, someone has died and it is so real, that I am left with no choice but to call and hear their voice just to reassure myself that it was only a dream.
And last night, I feel like my heart finally said good-bye to my dog. He was in my arms, heavy with life, and I was able to let him go.
When I woke up this morning, I felt differently than I have all week. I'm sad, yes, but I feel complete in some way that I had "one more minute" with him.
Last night, my memories of Connor created a new file in my mind. And one day, if I ever need to remember something about him, it's all there, waiting for me to pull it back out again.
Loss of any kind is difficult, but dreams make it a little easier because in them, things and people don't seem that far away.
My heart has healed a little...and it's good.
When I was small, one of the "myths" that went around school was that a person could control what they dreamed about by thinking about one thing straight until they fall asleep.
I cannot tell you how many times in my life I have tested this theory.
When my grandma died, I mentally returned to her house and tried to summon every image, smell, texture and memory I had of her.
True to form, more often than not, she appeared in some form or fashion in my dreams.
When I got divorced, the same was true. Not wanting to focus on the negative, I tried to recall the good times, the times before the tears and angry words.
Some times it worked, but more often than not, it didn't.
In hindsight, I think the wounds were too fresh, the emotions too raw and the proximity to the situation, stiffling.
This week I have tried to test this myth yet again.
Even though on a rational level I know my dog is gone, it really feels like he's just been away at the vet, or staying with a neighbor.
My heart hasn't really been able to accept what my mind has known all along.
What if I could feel my dog in my arms just one more time, in my dreams, and let him go?
It took me a week, but it finally worked.
And last night, he was there, healthy and happy, wriggling in my arms.
In my dreams, I talk to myself a lot. And I remember thinking, "he's here! In my arms! Warm and safe."
The mind is an amazing thing. When I trip in my dreams, I imagine I jerk in real life in response to an object that doesn't exist, but that I'm sure is out to hurt me.
When I fall in my dreams, I can feel myself falling through space, clawing for something solid to break my fall.
I have woken up crying before because in my dreams, someone has died and it is so real, that I am left with no choice but to call and hear their voice just to reassure myself that it was only a dream.
And last night, I feel like my heart finally said good-bye to my dog. He was in my arms, heavy with life, and I was able to let him go.
When I woke up this morning, I felt differently than I have all week. I'm sad, yes, but I feel complete in some way that I had "one more minute" with him.
Last night, my memories of Connor created a new file in my mind. And one day, if I ever need to remember something about him, it's all there, waiting for me to pull it back out again.
Loss of any kind is difficult, but dreams make it a little easier because in them, things and people don't seem that far away.
My heart has healed a little...and it's good.