I had a sleep soaked with dreams. Though I cannot remember most I have the sense that many were light-hearted and quirky. Pleasant, inoffensive dreams.
The one dream I recall more clearly was different. It was about mum, the first dream of her that I can remember since she died. Though the cancer that killed her is a central part of the dream she is alive throughout it. It seems we are preparing the way for when that terminal moment comes. It’s different to how it was – the world depicted is a fantasy, perhaps allegorical. There is something plain and simple in it, almost calmly measured. Dreaming of it made it hard, as if she was alive still and there remained the possibility of hope. The mum in my dream was my best mother.
I woke, and wondered what it meant. For a moment I wondered if there was a message in it for me; I even wondered if the message may be from her. As always, as is a frequent and regular occurrence, I felt a brief shaft of piercing grief.