I can’t remember most of my dreams after I wake up. The ones that do stick with me are generally lost five minutes into the morning, so this is why I sleep with a journal next to my bed. If I have a great dream I try to jot down as many details as possible as soon as I open my eyes. Who was there, what happened, what was I feeling? Now I’m not saying this is easy. I also LOVE to sleep and I’m notorious for hitting the snooze button (I’ll feel rested if I get just five more minutes!). Snoozing makes me run late, and then I have to throw on my “back-up outfit” and dash out the door. With all of this said, great dreams, the idea of writing about them, and knowing that I won’t have to power-walk to the train is usually motivation enough to get me up on time.
Not too long ago I had a dream about my grandfather who passed away in December of 2008. I dream about him a lot… most likely because I feel guilty I wasn’t able to be with him at the time of his death. In this dream, I was back in Australia and he had called me on the phone asking me to come home so I could be with him. We talked for a while and suddenly the phone went silent – I knew he was gone.
I wept in my dream. Waking slowly I realized that I was actually crying in my sleep. My pillowcase was wet and I had tears running down my face. I felt heavier than usual all morning. I stopped at Starbucks along the way to order my usual, venti black iced coffee (only to be followed by at least 3 or 4 more venti refills throughout the day). My clothes felt tight and my walk to the train felt twice as long. Every footstep reverberated through my entire body and my heart was pounding in my ears. Admittedly, I consume more than the average amount of caffeine, which may contribute to the fast typing and occasional jitters, however this day was different.
I seem to have an amplified sense of emotion. I feel and experience things deeply. This is to say, when I’m sad I’m very sad, but when I’m happy I’m very, very happy. This is something that I used to see as a flaw but now view as an asset. How could passion and love that comes in abundance be a bad thing? I joke that this is why I could never leave the northeast – I need to experience all four seasons in their entirety – not just one.
As for my grandfather…
After his passing, my grandmother swears that he stayed with her (actually stayed!) in many different ways. She said that he came to her in her dreams too. That he was with her around their house. Even their dog Missy sensed his presence and would stand barking near their empty bedroom. But was he really there?
Did he really call me in my dream or are we all just struggling to move on? Depending on the day, my thoughts sway one way or the other. Sometimes I think he would stick around – others, the mere thought seems foolish. Either way, I realize I should probably skip my last venti, but will never quit jotting down the remnants of my dreams.