I hate those dreams. You know the dreams. The ones where your child is missing and lost and you don’t know where they are. In the dream you are searching for them. Are they with other family members? Did they just wonder off by themselves and can’t find their way back? Did someone take them? You start looking and you start panicking! You start to worry. Are they hurt? Is someone hurting them? Are they hungry and frightened? Are they wondering where you are and why haven’t you found them yet? And the panic sets in deeper! You’re frightened! Time seems to keep moving faster and then in slow motion and you want to run after in search of them, but you can’t move! You think you see them, but you’re wrong, on a closer look it is not your child but someone who looks similar. You think you are retracing their steps, but it leads to nowhere, just more strange surroundings! You’re anxious! You’re scared! You’re becoming desperate! You need to find your child!
I hate those dreams. You know the dreams. If you are a mother or father you most likely have had the dream when your child was little and helpless. Those dreams don’t happen as much for our grown children, just our little ones, the ones who need us most to protect them from hurting themselves, and the wrong people in this world. The little ones who wouldn’t understand what was happening to them; and would be crying for their mommies if they could, and maybe that is what they are doing right now! And you panic more!
I hate those dreams. You know the dreams. The ones that startle you awake with the adrenaline in your body pumping so fast and your heart beating out of your chest! The ones that wake you up with tears streaming from your eyes, because you were crying in your sleep! The dream has followed you over into your waking state. You’re breathing deeply, your heart is pounding, your husband is holding you, asking what happened, calming you, telling you its’ okay, you were only dreaming! And slowly, gratefully, you realize yes! It was all a dream. It was a nightmare. Your breathing slowly returns to normal. Your child is safe! It was all a dream; your child is asleep in the other room where they should be and always have been. It was a nightmare. Everything is okay. It is all okay, and you sigh and thank GOD, because, it was only a bad dream.
I hate those dreams. I always have. And sometimes, I still have those dreams. After all these years I occasionally have that nightmare. Brian is missing. He is lost and we can’t find him! I panic and the adrenaline pumps; my heart pounds and the tears come; he is missing and I need to find him, he cannot be without me, he can’t take care of himself, I need to find him. Then I awake, and after a few moments it hits me! This nightmare is my reality. I can no longer say it was only a bad dream, because he is not asleep safe in his bed, he is not home where he belongs; and in my waking state I get no relief from that terror. The tears come stronger, and the sadness consumes me. My husband holds me and says "what’s wrong" and through tears I tell him, “I had a nightmare, Brian was missing… but I feel no comfort, no assurances. Brian is not here anymore and the nightmare stays in my waking hour; and throughout the day I ache and I am so sad and I cry. It is like a cold slap across my face, a cruel joke of my subconscious. He is not lost. He is not hurting or hungry or being mistreated, but he is not here anymore. I do not turn over and say thank you GOD, because everything is not okay anymore. Our world is upside down. I can only place my arm across my eyes and wish to disappear into a better dream of long ago, a reality I will never see again.
I hate those dreams. You know the dreams. I miss you my son. Until we meet again, Mother
I hate those dreams. You know the dreams. If you are a mother or father you most likely have had the dream when your child was little and helpless. Those dreams don’t happen as much for our grown children, just our little ones, the ones who need us most to protect them from hurting themselves, and the wrong people in this world. The little ones who wouldn’t understand what was happening to them; and would be crying for their mommies if they could, and maybe that is what they are doing right now! And you panic more!
I hate those dreams. You know the dreams. The ones that startle you awake with the adrenaline in your body pumping so fast and your heart beating out of your chest! The ones that wake you up with tears streaming from your eyes, because you were crying in your sleep! The dream has followed you over into your waking state. You’re breathing deeply, your heart is pounding, your husband is holding you, asking what happened, calming you, telling you its’ okay, you were only dreaming! And slowly, gratefully, you realize yes! It was all a dream. It was a nightmare. Your breathing slowly returns to normal. Your child is safe! It was all a dream; your child is asleep in the other room where they should be and always have been. It was a nightmare. Everything is okay. It is all okay, and you sigh and thank GOD, because, it was only a bad dream.
I hate those dreams. I always have. And sometimes, I still have those dreams. After all these years I occasionally have that nightmare. Brian is missing. He is lost and we can’t find him! I panic and the adrenaline pumps; my heart pounds and the tears come; he is missing and I need to find him, he cannot be without me, he can’t take care of himself, I need to find him. Then I awake, and after a few moments it hits me! This nightmare is my reality. I can no longer say it was only a bad dream, because he is not asleep safe in his bed, he is not home where he belongs; and in my waking state I get no relief from that terror. The tears come stronger, and the sadness consumes me. My husband holds me and says "what’s wrong" and through tears I tell him, “I had a nightmare, Brian was missing… but I feel no comfort, no assurances. Brian is not here anymore and the nightmare stays in my waking hour; and throughout the day I ache and I am so sad and I cry. It is like a cold slap across my face, a cruel joke of my subconscious. He is not lost. He is not hurting or hungry or being mistreated, but he is not here anymore. I do not turn over and say thank you GOD, because everything is not okay anymore. Our world is upside down. I can only place my arm across my eyes and wish to disappear into a better dream of long ago, a reality I will never see again.
I hate those dreams. You know the dreams. I miss you my son. Until we meet again, Mother
RSS Feed
