Grief Dreams

In the dead of night, when I want nothing more than a peaceful sleep, my dreams become haunted by the images of those who have died. They are not scary apparitions but grief-driven dreams over which I have no control. Some are sad, while others bring comfort. They don’t happen every night but spill into my waking life the next day. Knowing that my brain is trying to make sense of this new world doesn’t bring relief.

During my recovery from surgery, these dreams have become more frequent visitors. Last night, I dreamt of Mike. We were at a show, and we were both young and healthy. It was such a nice dream that when I woke up, I clung to it. For a while, I held on to the image of Mike being with me and that I was not alone on this journey. I felt comforted, but the reality soon seeped in, leaving me bereft, knowing I was on my own. It felt like a cruel trick as I settled back into being a widow.

Other dreams leave me feeling sad the moment I wake up. I’ll dream about my parents being well, but then being separated from them and unable to find them. Or Mike and my parents will appear in bubbles that pop and disappear, reminding me that they are no longer here. When I wake from these dreams, I’m overcome with grief as I try to navigate the day.

If I look at the dreams of these past six weeks, the theme is losing my support system as I recover from surgery and other chronic conditions. Although it has been more than eleven years since Mike died and just over a year since my parents, I miss knowing that someone has my back. I’m fortunate to have supportive people in my life, but it’s not the same as my husband or parents.