Dreams

Four months after Paul died, we faced his birthday.  It was one of the worst days of my life.  Early that morning I dreamed about Paul.  I rarely remember my dreams, but this was vivid.  I was in the living room and Paul walked down the hall.  I was shocked, elated, overcome, slammed with relief.  I grabbed him & hugged him, crying...and then I woke up.  It took me a long time to get over the feelings of that dream.

If I've dreamed about him since then, I've woken up with no memory of it.

Until this morning.

I dreamed Paul had been gone a long time and was coming home.  I saw him, grabbed him and hugged him. He felt odd, bony, not warm...and he didn't hug me back.

Switch to a different scene...

Someone is advancing toward Paul with the intent to hurt him, to throw acid in his face.  I held his head close to my chest, shielding him, feeling the person coming up behind me.  I was determined to protect my son.

And I woke up.

One of the most horrifying things for me to overcome after Paul's death was the awful feeling that, as his mother, I couldn't protect him.  I was horrified to not have been there, to not have intervened.  Horrified that I wasn't there to hold and comfort him after he was hurt. 

I guess that, 6 years 7 months later, I still have those feelings deep inside.