Sweet Dreams

Jasper has been gone all week, and I have been sleeping a lot. Somehow, when he is here doing homework until after midnight, it is a little guilt inducing to head off to bed at 9:00 pm….or even before. I get giddy at the prospect of a full night’s sleep. Sometimes so much so that I have difficulty dropping off. I’ve slept this week. And with sleep comes dreams. I had a dream with Jim in it earlier this week. It has affected me deeply. I will not share all the details of the dream in this blog. It is my dream, and though it may seem that I am pretty open in this forum, there are many things that I hold close to my chest, that never make it past my circle of intimate friends, and even more that only stay inside my head and heart.

In my dream, Jim came back to visit. Friends and family were gathered, anxiously awaiting his arrival. I was just one of many, and when he arrived, he brushed me off to go find and talk with his family. I was not hurt…almost every dream I have had of Jim since he died, this is what happens. He is busy, or distracted. He is actively doing something in which I am not involved. I leave him be. The difference in this dream is that I went to find him. I held his face in my hands so he had to look at me, had to talk with me. I told him that I was not in love with him anymore, that I could not be in love with a dead guy, it bordered on necrophilia. He told me that he had moved on. It was time for him to go. He was a different person,  had another life. We laughed and joked with some of his new friends. I then went to find his brother, his family. To let them know that no matter where my life took me, I would love them. They would always be my family.

This dream came to me the night after I had told a friend that I was done. Done with any kind of ritualized grief. She wanted to have a bonfire at a year…and burn the prayer flags made for Jim’s auction/benefit concert/memorial service. Seemed like a good idea when she suggested it, but the more I sat on it, the more I knew I couldn’t do it. I am done. I am done with ritualized grief of any kind. I just cannot go there anymore. I cannot remain in love with a dead guy. It borders on necrophilia. I am not naïve enough to think that I am done grieving. I know I will still get sad. I cannot forget Jim…I still live in this house, I still sleep in our bed, his Sotar winks at me from the rafters every time I head to the garage, his trails still make me smile on a run or mountain bike ride, his blue eyes gaze at me through our daughter, and Jasper inherited those wonderful LaFortune legs. Friday nights without a plan still make me anxious. Josh Ritter’s “Kathleen” still opens up a hole in my heart and I cry.

Dreams are powerful. They don’t care about the calendar. It has not been a full calendar year since Jim died. I had a similar dream, at about 11 months post, after my sister died. She needed to go…and I said OK. Emerald weaned herself, abruptly, at about 11 months. I fretted about putting her on formula, until a wise doctor told me that there was nothing magical about the 12 month date…it was just a ball park estimate. Emerald transitioned to whole milk just fine…at about 11 months. It has been about 11 months since Jim died. My dream says it is OK. Jim has moved on. I am doing so as well.

Sweet dreams.

This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Sweet Dreams

  1. Phil Druker says:

    Keep moving, Kathie!

  2. Mary Heller says:

    Had simliar ones about Rick too. Give me your email sometime girl since we spoke about me responding perhaps off this blog. SOOOO glad you are dancing and it was simply wonderful, fun and freeing to talk to you AND dance with you about a week ago.

    Yeah, that which was never born, nor never dies, is what truly is real. It’s changless, ever present underneath this matrix of ours. The love we bridge between each other is what is real, the rest of this – highly entertaining human/universe theatrical moment to moment improv, the sick horrific to the beautiful breathtaking, how we choose to react to it all is really all we have control of, if our health allows ha!


  3. David White says:

    Not for the first time, Kathie, you have inspired me. In this case, the inspiration is to think back on my own experiences… your ability to cause me to reflect like this is one reason why I think your writing is so powerful, and why I am so grateful that you continue to write these entries.

    Though it has been some time since the last time, I still occasionally have a conversation in my dreams with Allison. I can’t believe she has now been gone over 30 years. You know we were never terribly close, but we were friends. I met her the first day of high school, an experience that for me was every bit as surreal as talking to her in my dreams now. In my eyes she had this “grown up” quality (at age 14!) that contrasted starkly with my awareness of myself as such a child.

    Each of these dreams over the past decades is a somewhat discontinuous installment of a conversation I wish I had had with her 31 years ago. What happens to people, choices we make, and the choices we don’t make. Always, why.

    I know that I am not in any real sense talking to her… these are conversations with myself. It’s not something that happens often, and I find it’s most likely to occur when I am at some personal crossroads. There’s nothing sad about our chats – they’re just visits with an old friend, and always leave me with a warm feeling.

    Just like our real conversations, spanning back now over 37 years.

    My friend is gone, and I’ll never have her back. If all I have left are these dreams, that will have to do.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s