I took the kids to one of the local farmer's markets yesterday. It was lovely to amble through the market checking out everyone's wares. We bought some produce.
And looked at all the clourful and interesting things that we are going to try to make at home...
We walked along the docks nearby.
It was both a beautiful and sad experience.
I loved all the colours, textures and smells of the wharf....But with each of these came so many memories of Jeff.
There are so many stories that Liv wants to relive. I do too. But, oh, it hurts to think about it. I want to hide from them for some reprieve at times.
I have been having incredibly vivid and intense dreams about Jeff. Not the beautiful and comforting dreams that I would love to have. Tortured and stressful dreams. At least they are not about the actual moment of his death, I guess. It's as if my brain is trying to experience every alternate experience except for his death now. I have dreamed that I was hiding from Jeff in a church. I could hear him coming and I hid under one of the carts that carries the coffin. Am I telling myself that I am trying to hide from him and the pain that thoughts of his absense bring?I've had a dream that he was in jail in Montana. Weird? Oh yes. But I was trying to find someone to take care of the kids so I could drive to the jail and get him out. I needed internet access so I could figure out which jail it was in Montana. Why Montana? I have no bloody idea.
I had a dream that he called me and wanted to find out how much money was in the bank account because he was staying in some hotel called 'The Pacific Coast Cabana' with a girl named Maribu. I was a little bit pissed off that he had pulled this whole death scam on me but mostly, I was happy he was alive and really wanted to see him to make sure it wasn't someone just pretending to be him.
I seem to have one of these types of dreams everytime I lay down. I hate them. They freak me out and make my heart beat so hard that I feel like I have a pulsating egg stcuk in my throat when I wake up. I feel guilty for being the one who is alive. Why? I have no fucking idea. I just wish he was the one here with the kids. Maybe he wouldn't be as messed up. Maybe he could live a semi-normal life without me. I don't know but why am I the one left behind?
5 comments:
Same experiences, same dreams, last nite too, most nites I dream he is here and I am ever so happy.. not last nite I had a similar dream. Anyway I thought of you today as I read this chinese proverb:
"You can only walk half way into the dark forest before you come out on the other side."
Other side meaning, that it will get easier, is does get easier... though it may not seem like it.
Groovey Gumboots n those xmas chocolates that are round and wrapped and so yummy. (Evan and I would fight and hide them on eachother)
Just wanted to let you know that we're still here, reading and thinking of you...
What a beautiful set of photos! It looks as though you found some great things at the market!
I had nothing but weird, psychotic, depressing dreams about Charley for years after he died. Sure, I had a few nice-but-he-wasn't-dead dreams here and there, but by and large, they were often bad dreams or nightmares. He was in jail, he'd left me for another woman, he was totally absent because of work, etc. etc. etc.: you name it, my subconscious was trying to come up with any remotely implausible excuse or reason why he was gone. I don't think I ever (to this day) had a "I'm dead but it's okay" dream. It took up until this spring--til around 2 yrs and 9 mos post-death (coincidentally, around when I started writing my blog about it all)--for the dreams to stop being so awful. Now they're pretty blase or normal, which is rather nice. He's just there; sometimes he's dead, but usually he's just alive and all "this" hasn't happened.
Hang in there. Some of those dreams can be damned awful.
Hugs,
Candice
I had this really profound dream after Dan died. We were driving in a car going over the Machinac Bridge (we live in Michigan). We were going to a family function and I was telling him that he had to tell everyone that he was alive before we got there because they all think he is dead. That him just showing up would be too shocking for everyone. So they needed some warning. He agreed that he would tell everyone that he was alive, and not dead, as we were going through a car wash. Weird.
So many things that you talk about resonate so strongly with me and my own journey. I feel less alone (and less crazy) when I read your journal. Thank you.
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