Tears

I had my grieving dreams last night.

On a beach unlike any I've ever seen. Lots of driftwood. I was there with my mother and we were desperately trying to pack up a room and move out of the beach house. The grief seemed distant and yet so raw, and we were both avoiding it until it blew up. Someone we loved fiercely had died. I'm not even going to write down who here because it was so horrible and I can't bear to think about it in the daylight hours. Somehow in the dream I ended up crawling across this beach, so stricken with sadness that normal balance was not possible. In the dream, I sobbed and wailed for what seemed like hours. Every time I tried to redirect myself, I was bowled over again. As I entered the door to the beach house, I knew that I would never stop crying ever again. How could I? And then I realized that my mother was in more pain than I could ever imagine. And so I cried even harder. When I finally woke up, dry-eyed and shaken, I felt this insane sense of relief. I usually know that dreams are not real, but in my crying dreams, I cannot see past the cloud of grief.

I know this probably sounds like a horrifying nightmare, but it really isn't. I can't cry like that when I am awake. To do so in my dreams feels oddly satisfying, maybe even good. It hurts, but the lack of control is almost exhilarating. I've had these dreams for many years, even before I had encountered grief and loss in my waking life. They are rare, but poignant. I am usually not that shaken by them, unless, as in this one, the death is someone I do love and care for in real life and not a vague or created figure. I don't even think that these dreams are a sign of distress or tension in my waking life. They just...exist. They allow a kind of release that I don't often get.