I’ve been having crazy dreams lately.
This isn’t a new thing for me in life as I’ve always been a bit of a dreamer. As a kid, I had a recurring dream where I was hanging out with a group of cool, older kids on a road trip to go see a killer whale in an aquarium. I would always wake up right before I got to swim in the tank with the orca and fulfill my life dream. After reading this, you probably won’t be surprised that Free Willy was one of my favorite movies.
Though I expected the crazy dreams to start right after Tim died, they didn’t really crank up until about a month ago. Most nights I wake up at least once after a vivid, usually halfway traumatic dream. I keep a journal and pen at my nightstand, but despite this never write them down. Sleep is one of my very favorite things in life, so although I know I probably won’t remember the dream unless I write it down… I never do. The thought process goes something like; I should write this down so I remember. It’s awfully important. You know, it’s so important that I’m SURE I’ll remember everything clearly in the morning. Yes, that is best… and then I immediately fall back asleep.
So a lot of these important, significant dreams I have no memory of.
Others I have a vague feeling or shadow memory. The themes are usually divorce or addiction, but rarely death. I seem to always know that Tim is dead, but he’s alive and in front of me in my dream despite this knowledge. There have been several where we are trying to navigate a life apart during separation or after divorce. Others I will see him in front of me completely high off of who knows what. In one dream, I remember he was staggering in front of me with a syringe sticking out of his arm. I could only watch him wave and falter, trying to walk. I couldn’t help him.
I had a dream that we went to visit some close friends of ours at an amusement park, only that amusement park was actually a mall. My friends and I all know Tim died, but we act normal with him being present and in front of us. The four of us go to “bumper cars”, but the ride is really me driving an intense, winding road in my Kia. I’m driving, and Tim is in the passenger seat. I’m trying to catch up with our friends, but I never do. I feel like I’m driving SO FAST, but the speed gauge never goes above 45mph. When we finish the “ride”, Tim and I go to a locker room to get my belongings and we start to have an argument. At one point during this argument (which I can’t fully remember), he turns to me and says “I think you’re being unreasonable when you count how many drinks I’m having.”
I turn to him and say, “Was I being unreasonable when I found you lying dead on the floor?”
He gets quiet and extremely angry, and tells me he wants a divorce. I start to cry, and hold his hand. “The last 8.5 years were the happiest of my life,” (I guess I subtracted the last year of our relationship due to all the shittiness, LOL @ dream me) and his face softens. He starts to tear up. “I would do it all over again,” I tell him.
He looks at me with glassy eyes and says, “I didn’t know..” and then I wake up.
A dream like that will leave me feeling confused and depressed for days.
Last week, I dreamt about Sex and the City which I think is officially a sign that you’ve watched a show too much. Carrie & Mr. Big were ridiculously happy, and we were all traveling to their honeymoon in an underground moving apartment under a bridge. They said it’s a very NYC thing to travel that way. Miranda & Steve were getting divorced, because Steve developed a drinking problem.
One night, I dreamt I was alone in a large, modern house at Christmas. It had huge, open rooms of square, white tile. I wandered around thinking about how sad I was to be alone at Christmas, but the entire time I had a English Bulldog puppy in my hands. It was a black & white female, and probably 6 weeks old. I don’t even like Bulldogs (they were Tim’s favorites), but the puppy was adorable. I kept thinking, well this is a really sad situation… but I sure do like my puppy!
I have a journal (which is another story itself) that I write to Tim in. Typically, I try to write something each night but there were several days after I received the final toxicology results that I couldn’t bring myself to write to him. When I finally did, I scribbled something along the lines of “This was a very shitty and unfair thing you did to me. I deserve an apology!”
That night, I dreamt that Tim had actually almost overdosed many, many times in secrecy months prior to his death. In my dream, I watched him sleep curled up in a ball and drift in and out of consciousness. Someone in the background (maybe myself) was telling me, See? You couldn’t have prevented this. There were other times you didn’t know about. It wasn’t just the one you stopped, and the one you couldn’t stop.
That may be as close to an apology as I get. I’ll have to see what dreams may come tonight.