I know that I should feel grateful for the things that I'm blessed with in life - and I am. But may I say, that having my computer cease to function on me during a time in which thoughts are more numerous than usual is highly inconvenient. Not being able to just instantly turn my compy on and begin to furiously type all the words which are overtaking my brain is extremely painful. Now. All that being said, on to what's been waiting to get out.
This year, the holidays have been more difficult to bear and get through than just any average day. The loss of someone so beloved has taken its toll much more than I expected. More and more I'm finding it hard to muster the strength to pretend that all is well and jolly.
There are times when I'm doing better than usual. But then in a moment when my mind is unoccupied by any thoughts or sounds or distractions, memories come rushing at me. The one which occurs most often is the day I heard about her passing. How I had to pretend like everything was fine, because I was working as a counselor at a kids camp, and then right when I thought I would be fine, one of the mother's helping out comes running to me, and says "I heard the news. Are you all right?" Upon which I burst into tears, because no, I'm not all right. How on earth could I have thought that death would be so easy to shrug off?
And then there are times when during the day, my thoughts are clean of the painful memories, but the dreams that night brings are more painful than daytime recollections.
For example, the dream I had last night. It was random, as most dreams are. It also contained a slight element of romance - something my mind seems to want to get out of me, but since I refuse to have any part of it during the day, dreams seem to be the only way it can surface and explore. There was a very slight relation in its elements to the movie 27 dresses. Nothing obvious, but a sense of it nonetheless.
I won't waste time going through all the mundane details of all that happened. Near the end, however, I was working my way to the top of a very steep stadium full of people watching some sort of live event. I ran into a couple of people that I knew, but continued to push my way to the top. (For to reach the top meant to be able to flee all the people, which is what I wanted.) I had finally reached the last few rows when...I saw her.
Here's where another movie influenced my dream. For anyone who's seen The Time Traveler's Wife, you'll know how this ties in. For those who haven't let me explain. This man travel's in time - though not by choice. It happens to him at random times, in random places, and he really has no control over it. But he travel's to different places in his own personal timeline, both future and past. At one point, he dies, leaving his wife and child to continue on in life. After he dies, we see him encounter his daughter at an age which he will never see her reach, because at this point in her timeline, he's already dead. But she (and her mother) are able to see him one last time. So even though in their lives, he's dead, in his own timeline, he has yet to die, though at this point he knows he's going to die.
As I reached those last few rows, I saw her. And she saw me. She said "Aimee Joy." And I said "Oma," as I burst into sobs, and stroked the side of her face to make sure she was really there. Then I saw sitting next to her, a very young version of me, and I realised that I had traveled in time. Though the setting in which this took place never actually happened in real life, it apparently had in my "dream world." I woke up after this encounter.
And since then, my heart has been heavy all day. For how can I ignore something that felt so real? Memories that flood my mind during the day are hard to shove off, but they are easier to shove off than the dreams I have. For memories are more of ideas, and I can prevent myself from getting lost in them. Dreams, however, bring her face in front of mine, and there's no easy way to make myself wake up in order to stop them from progressing any further.
"No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear."
- C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed
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