The dream that was too real; but not real enough.
She was in a box, a small white box, I knew she was in there although I would/could rarely look; it hurt too much. My broken heart was in that box. One day I found the courage and opened the box and these big beautiful dark eyes stared back at me, I screamed, not a loud or frightened one, just a squeak came out. We locked eyes, and then she smiled the most amazing, wide grin that was lost to me. I looked around frantically, I yelled, what is this? What is happening? How can it be? Have you been feeding her? I never stopped he said, I cried, why did I give up? I picked her up and instantly she was three years old I laid her on my bed and just stared in awe, in love, in anguish, I ripped her feeding tube out ever so carefully saying it will just heal over, I held her up and hugged her so tightly, that I woke up crying and alone. I sat up so confused, where is my baby? I looked over at her sister sleeping; I touched her to make sure she was real. I cried a soft whimper as I fell back asleep
This is the very first and I pray not last dream I had of Lily since she died- which was two and a half years when I wrote this originally(Dec.18/2014). It will now be five and a half, and I have not had another dream of her, although I have woken up in a panic, filled with dread and confusion about where my baby is. I am told that is a form of PTSD, a recurrence of trauma in our subconscious.
I remember this dream haunted me when I woke up- at first because it felt so real I was very confused and then because it felt too real I felt scared. I carried it with me for a few days finally realizing I had to write it down. So I could/would remember it forever.
Thanks for reading